Back 2 School
by Dancingdog
Summary: What happens when the G1 Transformers have to go back to school for another year? The Elders have sent both factions back to school by a claim that they must relearn morals and values, but aren't they the ones that wanted war? The stories that have happened in the Transformer classes have actually happened to me, my friends and family... so expect a lot of randomness and humour!
1. Chapter 1

'This has to be a joke' thought Optimus Prime as he re-read the data pad for the umpteenth time that morning. The data pad, written by the Elders themselves, had not only been sent to the leader of the Autobots, but apparently the leader of the Decepticons as well. It consisted of a set of rules to be adhered to by both Cons and Bots alike, and for once, it seemed that both leaders could agree on something.

They sucked.

A scream of rage was heard throughout the Nemesis, and the sound belonged to none other than Megatron as he too, re-read the letter more times than he cared to count. The tyrant snarled at the offending object as he tried to interpret just exactly what the letter was trying to tell him, and more importantly, which part of the Elders' bodies he should lop off first.

Now normally, a letter like this would have just been ignored and laughed at by the Cons however, it seemed that the Elders were intent on making sure that there were no loopholes in this agreement as they had made it quite clear what would happen if the new rules (which had been set in place for the following year, commencing the following morning) weren't followed precisely. It went something along the lines of being taken hostage, processor transwarped into a small, metal case, where it would then be locked into a cabinet for all eternity whilst the body of the offender would be paralysed, torched and then finally, thrown into the waiting jaws of Unicron. And that was if they were feeling merciful.

Megatron refused to review the part about what would happen if they weren't; not after the imminent crash warnings he'd had the first time.

The gunformer groaned. He'd have to consult his top officers if he wanted to find a way out of this.

A few moments later, Soundwave and the Command Trine's footsteps could be heard walking to the throne room.

* * *

Jazz's mouth did a movement similar to what a hungry fish might do. Even Prowl had given up the calm act a few minutes prior and Optimus had the feeling that Ironhide would have to be sedated shortly by Ratchet. Not that anyone would even think of going near the medic at the moment.

"No offence Optimus but, HAVE YOU LOST A SCREW?!" Ratchet shouted.

"Or four..." muttered Prowl.

Optimus' face fell into his hands as he wearily listened to his seething Officers arguments. He thought by notifying his top commanding staff he could maybe work out an answer to the impending situation. Apparently not.

"How do we know tha' this ain't some Con-related trap?" The weapon specialist demanded.

"Yeah, Ah mean, it's not as if they haven't tried to pull this sorta stunt before," reasoned Jazz.

"Because I contacted the Elders before this meeting, and this is no trap," answered Optimus, whose patience was starting to wear thin.

"Well, tell 'em to shove their 'agreement' up their tailpipes! We ain't interested!"

Optimus sent a glare toward the red mech. "You know as well as I do that we can't. You've read the data pad and you know what kind of power the Elders hold."

All Bots present shuddered at THAT little reminder.

"I'm afraid I don't understand. I always believed that the Elders were the ones who wanted the war, so why now would they address not only the Decepticons 'morals' and 'beliefs', but ours also? I mean, Sentinel Prime wasn't exactly the best of leaders, far from it considering what he thought should happen to those who didn't believe in what he did, and was probably the one who most Cons would blame for their choice on the side of the war, but Sentinel was offlined millennia ago; if we'd have known that the Elders were trying to discourage war and with it standing that they hold the power they do, the war should have stopped soon after Sentinel's death," concluded Prowl.

Optimus was also a little confused as to why the Elders suddenly wanted to pause the war and basically make a truce; it was known to both sides (well, their top officers) that the Elders played dirty and always encouraged war even though they claimed to play no part, nor would they disclose their beliefs on how things should run. Unfortunately, that had gone against most Cybertronians as the war had already started and it was hard to change what had been done, especially since every time the sides had try to negotiate something, the Elders had always been quick to make one faction back out by reminding what the others had done and what was lost forever (family, friends etc.). Although no-one really thought about how it was the Elders breaking up the peace and focused more on the hurt and betrayal the other side had brought. Sure, there had been defectors, but many seemed to have gone 'mysteriously' missing...

"Maybe they've had a change of spark," suggested Ratchet, effectively bringing Optimus out of his musings.

"Or maybe they're plottin'..." grumbled Ironhide.

"Well whatever they're doing, it seems as if we'll just have to go along with it. There's nothing else we can do," said Optimus. "Unless any of you have any ideas or can find a loophole?"

The room was quiet bar the humming of each mechs' internals.

"Then it is settled. We will inform the rest of the crew and we shall leave in the morning," announced Optimus.

"This is gonna kill Red..."

* * *

Soundwave was seriously beginning to question his leader's sanity. At one point, he believed that his leader was the best thing that ever happened to Cybertron and his ideals would make everyone's lives as a whole, better.

He still believed that the ideals were great, but as he watched the large tyrant throw his second in command across the room, only for the seeker to smash his delicate wings into the wall, the tape deck started to doubt his former statement. And it wasn't for the first time.

Not that he particularly liked Starscream (it was okay as the feeling was mutual) but it seemed that Megatron had become more volatile and violent as the war raged on. He could understand some of the beatings that Starscream had earned, however, some it seemed were just for fun, and it wasn't as if the tri-coloured jet was the only one on the receiving end; all the crew had been rewarded with at least five beatings just this year if a plan went wrong - it was May. Some were quite mild; a few punches to the chassis and a quick whip across the back, but most were excruciatingly painful, landing some mechs in emergency stasis from energon loss and/or pain.

Contrary to popular belief, Soundwave wasn't emotionless and family always came before his leader (though he never told anyone that except his six creations) and he would always take the blame if his creations were questioned. This usually ended up with Soundwave having to limp to Hook's medical bay (if you could call it that), but that wasn't often as Soundwave had the advantage of being loyal to Megatron, unlike Starscream.

Many called Starscream a coward, but being the trine leader he always protected his trine mates, (and Soundwave had a sneaky feeling that the screechy jet cared more for his trine than he let on) which in retrospect was probably why he got so many injuries. Don't be fooled, the Command Trine got more assaults than Soundwave believed was wholly necessary, for example, just over a week ago, all three seekers were told to report to the throne room for a 'talk' over how certain black and purple flyers 'shouldn't be singing human songs as it sets off the idea that organics have an influence over the mighty Decepticons'. ('I wasn't even singing, I was humming!')

The battered seeker crawled to his feet as the war lord fumed over the past news.

"You mean to tell me that none of you blithering idiots have anything to say?!" Roared Megatron.

"I-it's not a-as if w-we can't think o-of anything," whimpered Skywarp as he shot a concerned glance at his trine leader who was struggling to stay upright after the multiple strikes to his legs that the grey tyrant had caused mere moments ago.

"It's just that we can't think of anything... yet," finished Thundercracker as he too sent a sympathetic look to his commander.

Megatron snarled and rounded on his Third in Command.

"What about you? Do you have anything to add?"

"Negative. Data pad: contains no loopholes. Theory: If Autobots have same information and find way to bypass, Decepticons can use same technique. If Autobots are unable to find anything, both factions have no choice but to comply," Soundwave theorised. It was times like these when the navy mech was glad that he disguised his voice of emotions (unless of course, he was alone with his creations, in which case the vocoder was deactivated and he would speak with his original voice. After all, why would his creations ever take advantage of his emotions like other Cons would? He didn't need to hide from family.)

Megatron hummed in thought. "So what you're saying is that we should wait to see if those Autobrats can come up with any ideas?"

Soundwave nodded.

"Let's hope, for all of your sakes, you are right..."


	2. Chapter 2

Nobody found any loopholes.

It was chaos, or at least it had been when the rest of the Ark's residence had been told of the latest U-turn in the war.

Red Alert had a paranoia glitch attack as he decided that all the commanding officers had been brainwashed by the Decepticons, then he proceeded to throw anything within reach at both Jazz and Ironhide, including data pads, fire extinguishers, empty energon containers and even Bumblebee during a point of blind panic. The poor Beetle managed to hang onto a chair to stop himself from being thrown too far and only then did the security director cease his throwing to check if he really had just tried to chuck Bumblebee 40 metres across the rec. room. Jazz had literally thrown himself onto Red Alert's back and had stayed put long enough to confirm that the officers had not lost their minds but had actually been set up by the Elders through no knowing of their own.

The Lamborghini twins had cursed up a storm when they heard the news and had decided that yelling at Prowl would be a good idea since he was supposed to be the 'calculating and sensible one' not the one that threw his team mates into dangerous situations involving 'Cons.

The other Minibots were no better than the larger mechs. Cliffjumper and Gears had nominated themselves as group leaders and had proceeded to give 101 complaints on 'why this was a bad idea' to none other than the Autobot leader himself.

The Arielbots had been horrified and had flew off into their room at a speed even Blur would have struggled to beat.

Grimlock and the other Dinobots had roared in outrage, smashing most of the rec. room up during their irate mood. They then thought that the best possible solution would be to march straight up to the Decepticons and destroy them whilst they were sitting in the nemesis. Ratchet had to remind them that if that were possible, the war would have ended millennia ago. Grimlock didn't like being told 'no' and the quiet discussion had quickly developed into a competition on who could come up with the most creative swears.

Little did they know, the Decepticons were having the same trouble.

* * *

The Constructicons screamed in outrage. How dare the Elders expect two opposing factions to spend the next year together with no hope of escape or weapons! How could they expect the Decepticons to achieve their goal if they couldn't even smash one puny Autobot's face in?

The Coneheads snarled at the command trine.

"You can't be serious!" Thrust yelled.

"Yeah how can you call yourself 'Command trine' if you can't even defeat a bunch of old, rusted, bucket of bolts worth of Elders?" sneered Ramjet.

Starscream growled at the other trine.

"In case you haven't noticed, we have tried everything to come up with a plan to remove ourselves from this difficult... situation. However, it seems that the Elders posses more power than we initially thought."

"Which means that unfortunately, we will just have to go along with their plan for now until a better opportunity presents itself," finished Thundercracker.

"That's if the Autobots don't decide to offline us when we step foot on the premises. Lets not forget about the walking wrecking teams like that klutz, Ironhide," muttered Dirge.

"They can't; the agreement extends to the Autobots as well. Besides, it's been '_painstakingly_' hard to even try to come up with any ideas," Skywarp replied, whilst shooting a sympathetic glance towards his trine leader, to which Starscream just twitched a lip component in a way that said _'Don't worry, I'm used to it'_.

At that moment, Megatron and Soundwave graced the surrounding Decepticons with their presence. Soundwave seemed strained. Megatron didn't care.

"The Elite trine are correct. Those Autobrats can do nothing against us; it would break the rules of the agreement. On another note, I have received word from the Elders that ALL Decepticons taken to the... location, must co-operate with the other transformers," Megatron made a point of looking at Soundwave's creations as he said this. "That means you must be in contact with others besides siblings, transformation groups and trine. If not, I'm sure the Elders will find a suitable punishment for you. Besides, it may give you a chance to bond with you fellow team mates..."

Sarcastic laughter could be heard as Megatron stalked away from the horrified group of 'Cons.

Ratbat moved closer to his creator's leg as his siblings looked at each other with worried expressions. How could Megatron expect them to interact with the other Decepticons when all the larger mechs ever saw them as were a few mindless drones, which could be crushed if they ever got too annoying? Frenzy and Rumble had been in that situation enough to know what ran through some of the minds of the larger mechs (fortunately Soundwave had always been there to save them from impending doom if they couldn't handle it themselves). In fact, the only ones who hadn't tried to offline them on sight after one of their pranks was the command trine. They usually just ignored the mini-mechs or warned them with a verbal threat.

Soundwave shifted his gaze to his creations. What if he couldn't protect them the next time they got into trouble (because lets be honest, with Rumble and Frenzy it was definitely a 'when' not an 'if')? If they had to interact with others rather than stay with him most of the time, then he wouldn't be able to keep tabs on them all the time. What if something happened? He would never be able to live with himself if one of his creations got hurt...

"They won't."

Soundwave snapped his head up to the source of the voice. Starscream. His optics behind his visor narrowed at the traitorous jet.

Starscream rolled his optics.

"Oh please. Spare me your scrutiny, I'm merely reminding you that your brats can't possibly be harmed during this... exercise; the Elders will have some sort of rule forbidding physical engagement and I doubt anybody would like to experience the consequences of breaking it."

Soundwave could never understand how such a pompous jet could be so observant, especially when regarding the telepath himself. What was more astonishing was that the jet was most probably correct.

With no audible reply the tri-coloured jet shrugged his shoulders and walked (more like limped) to he and his trine's shared quarters, Skywarp and Thundercracker following closely behind.

As the dumbfounded group of Decepticons slowly dispersed back to whatever task they had been doing before the big announcement, rumours had already begun to spread about their new living arrangement. Most were about how the Autobots would probably try to gouge their optics out with forceps when they were recharging, or how the Elders would throw them into smelting pits if they even looked the wrong way at someone, effectively striking fear into all those who listened. However the most chilling thought was not what may happen, but what did happen 136 minutes after Megatron had left the group. The intercom system on the ship had screeched on and Megatron's voice had boomed with a sinister tone that the Decepticons couldn't tell if it was real, or their overactive imaginations. He had uttered only three words.

"We leave tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Omega Supreme sighed. Having all of the Autobots inside you as you drove through hyper-space to get to a dying planet was not a pleasant feeling. But as the large ship closed in on Cybertron, all transformers present made a very surprising discovery.

Cybertron was not dead.

In fact, it was very much alive if the large building with youthful mechs and femmes bustling in and out of it was anything to go by. The surrounding apartments seemed to burst with life and the music coming from the modest site harmonised perfectly with its location.

This was Cybertron, wasn't it?

As the Cybertronians gawked at the sight, Omega had to re-read his co-ordinates. They weren't set for here.

Omega slowed as he reached the set location. At least the Decepticons hadn't arrived yet; it would give the Autobots time to take in their current settings.

They were nothing like the picturesque scene that greeted them when they first arrived.

The streets were barren and damaged, buildings had massive holes and great cracks running like spider webs up the once elegant metal-work, the air was thin and polluted with the stench of burning and death, smoke blackened the atmosphere; plunging the once bright streets into darkness, the once beautiful homes had been bombed and singed; some were leaning dangerously at awkward angles, sentimental and priceless objects alike were scattered along the haunting street. This was the Cybertron everyone knew. The worst part was probably that the energon-stained buildings surrounding them seemed to trap them in a prison-like atmosphere, almost as if it had been planned to keep them from escaping...

Bumblebee shivered.

"Are you sure these are the correct co-ordinates, Omega?"

"Omega Supreme does not make mistakes," bellowed the giant ship.

"Could have fooled me," Huffer muttered under his breath.

"Sarcasm: not appreciated."

Optimus shook his head.

"Alright, settle down. First off, we need to find out what we're doing here and why we've been sent here. It may help if we can do that before the Decepticons grace us with their presence."

"Not so fast, Prime!"

The Autobot leader rolled his optics. Great. Just what they needed. Now not only did they have no idea as to why they had been sent here, nor did they know what they were supposed to do, they now had to deal with Megatron and his snide remarks about the Autobots and how they were "inferior" compared to the Decepticons.

The Decepticon tyrant stood with his troops inside a space-shuttle that the Autobots were certain had not been created by the opposing faction. It was old and was just a vehicle; not a Cybertronian. That was odd. It probably meant that the Elders had sent the ship to pick up the 'Cons from Earth. That may have caused some controversy on the small blue planet as it looked nothing like any of the rockets found on Earth, nor did it look like any of the Transformers inhabiting the Earth, as even they had alt. modes designed to blend in with the technology devised by the planet (however primitive that may be).

"What do you want Decepti-creeps?!" Gears snarled.

Megatron merely smirked.

"If anyone is going to find out anything around here, it won't be some thick-minded buffoons!"

"Awww, don't be too hard on yarself!" Grinned Jazz.

A few snickers could be heard amongst the Autobot crew whereas snarls and hisses made the rest of the Decepticons known. Optimus, not for the first time that morning, wished that duct-tape came in Transformer sizes.

"This isn't helping anyone," sighed Optimus.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should keep that Third of yours under control!" Mixmaster roared.

"A leash and muzzle would do nicely to restrain that personality..." muttered Scrapper.

Jazz growled and was ready to tear into the Decepticons if his leader gave the word however, a hand firmly gripped his shoulder and he turned around to see Prowl shaking his head in a manner that said _'not now'_.

Blaster stood up for his friend and glared heatedly at the opposite faction.

"At least our Third HAS a personality!"

Blaster's cassettes laughed outright at their creator's remark, whereas their counterparts snarled at the offenders.

"Let me at 'em, Boss!" Frenzy whispered to their sire.

Soundwave was about to reply with a "Negative," when a booming voice bawled over the area.

"**ENOUGH!**"

Everyone jumped at the sound; some even cowered. The more intelligent of the Cybertronians tried to locate the source of the voice, but it was all in vain. That voice didn't belong to anyone gathered, yet there was no one new assembled. In the quiet of the abandoned street and the shock that had been thrust upon all present, it then began to sink in that all the smoke from the bombings hadn't just turned the street dark; it had been plunged into total blackness. The only things visible were enemies, allies and the buildings that towered over them on all sides, effectively holding them prisoners.

Suddenly, the situation had become petrifying.

The young cassettes huddled towards their respective creators, whereas the Minibots bunched together, as did the Gestalt teams. Even the Seekers and Coneheads sought comfort through their trines.

"What kind of trick are you trying to play Prime?" Demanded Megatron in a low voice.

The Prime frowned and was about to answer when the voice boomed out again.

"**THIS IS NO TRICK YOUNGLING!**"

This time, whimpers could be heard amongst the assembled.

Megatron sputtered, "Youngling?!"

Optimus groaned; leave it to Megatron to be indignant at being called young when they were trapped, blind to everything going on around them, stuck in a bombed street and being yelled at (at audio-shattering volumes) by an invisible voice. Talk about egotistical...

Suddenly, a blinding flash of light lit up the area for a few scarce moments, before it dimmed down to a low light setting. When the factions took a proper look at what was before them, they realised, with some confusion, that a hologram was being displayed however, the picture hadn't been formed correctly and there was just a black and red blur standing in front of them. Ratchet tilted his head in bewilderment.

"What the frag?"

A few Decepticons made noises of agreement, whilst some Autobots shrugged. The reactions were quieted by the hologram morphing into a more recognisable figure. It wasn't pleasant.

It was the head of what appeared to be some sort of Cybertronian, but you could only figure that out if you looked at it carefully enough. Few dared to do so.

The metallic skin was burnt and twisted beyond recognition and two long, sharp horns protruded from the top of the head. The mouth was horrifyingly misshapen as the teeth of the thing were bared along with two abnormal fangs hanging from the upper mouth. The metallic skin around the mouth was peeling off, with thin strands keeping both parts of the jaw connected. The whole head was composed of only black and blood red, but the most terrifying thing about the creature were the optics. They were a pitch black, but not like when someone dies, it was more like a demon's eyes, as if there was no soul.

The creature's mouth began to move as it started to form words.

"You have been summoned here for a reason,"

The voice was the same as the bellow that had erupted moments before, but this time, it was a lot quieter, yet no less impressive.

"It is our belief that the younger generations have lost what is important in life, in terms of ideals and ambition. To regain these values, you must complete a task, which will teach you correct morals and will award you when you get them right. However, get them wrong... and your punishment will be one to remember. Understood?"

"Wait a moment... am I correct in thinking that... YOU are one of the Elders?" Asked Prowl in astonishment.

The figure turned it's head to glare into Prowl's being, as if judging him. It never said anything, but then again, it didn't need to.

A few of the Earth mechs trembled in fear after realising just how powerful and horrifying the Elders could be.

"I thought you wanted the war..." growled Starscream, bravely stating the troubles everyone had in believing this 'demon'.

The head turned menacingly towards the jet.

"You would be wise to clamp your vocaliser, seeker. I will put it bluntly: You are the most violent, war-driven, underhanded, scheming, hateful, spiteful bunch of glitches the Elders have ever met. If you wish to carry on your pitiful existence, I suggest you do as we say without question. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," spat Starscream.

The figure glowered at the SIC before deciding something. The hologram then promptly shut off, leaving the assembled mechs (and two femmes) in blackness once more. The two factions stared at each other whilst trying to comprehend the point of what they had just heard. It was as if the demon had wanted to say more, but after Starscream's little tirade, decided against it.

A loud _THWACK_ was heard, startling everyone. As they searched for the source, their scanners came to a halt when they found a tri-coloured jet crumpled on the floor with a fuming gunformer looming over the body, canon raised and pointed towards it's head.

"IDIOT!" Yelled Megatron.

Starscream groaned in pain from where his leader's fist had made contact with delicate wing sensors.

"Forgive... me... sir,"

Just as Megatron was about to deal another almighty blow to his SIC, the area they were in blazed with a fire-like glow, giving the impression that the walls surrounding them were burning. There wasn't even a moment to think about the strange occurrence, when an audio-piercing scream howled in pain and anguish, making some mechs collapse to the floor because of the damage to their audios. Others fritzed (like Red Alert), covering their audios in an attempt to drown out the screech. Some crashed.

Then just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

The walls were no longer burning and everything was silent once more. The only sound that could be heard was the whirring of processors as they rebooted.

"What...was that...?" Thundercracker asked quietly as he attempted to soothe his aching temple.

"**YOUR FATE.**"

Everyone looked at each other in shock. Surely that couldn't have been a real Cybertronian?! Furthermore, the Elders couldn't possibly assign them to something like that... could they?

"**OR AT LEAST IT WILL BE, IF YOU DON'T COMPLY. ARE YOU READY TO LISTEN?**"

The Elders took the proceeding silence as a 'Yes'.

The hologram of the demonic figure flashed back to life.

"As I said, you must relearn you morals. However to do this, you must go back to a time in your life when values like this were learnt rather than ignored. I am of course referring to your youth. When you were in High School, you were taught important life lessons, which the Elders believe you have forgotten. You are to revisit High School in an attempt to remember what is important in life. Is that clear so far?"

A few murmurs were heard amongst both factions as they mulled over the situation at hand.

"Good. You must do this together, in unity, rather than two separate factions - after all, we are all Cybertronian. Unfortunately, it wouldn't do to have you all running around a school in the state you are in, which is why we have obtained this."

The hologram abruptly changed to depict a very familiar device.

"_The immobiliser_?" Wheeljack asked incredulously.

"How on Cybertron will that help?!" Blurted Sideswipe.

"You are correct. This is the immobiliser... with a few added details. This contraption originally worked by freezing one's system in a certain time frame. Well what happens if we could _reverse_ the system in said time frame?"

Ratchet frowned. "You would reverse the internal clock, thereby making them younger. 'Turn back time', so to speak."

"But that's impossible! I've never once come across something like that before; scientists all over Cybertron have tried to work that out; it can't be done!" Perceptor argued.

The hologram seemed to smirk.

"What if these _scientists_ weren't from Cybertron?"

"Quintessons..." Hook muttered.

"Yes, and they seem very intent on finding the results of their little creation. So, who's up first?" The grin got wider.

Before anyone could protest, a stray beam of purple light from one of the surrounding buildings hit Starscream from behind. He instantly collapsed.

A few screams and shouts of surprise left the group of Transformers when the most spectacular light enveloped the fallen jet and he began to shrink in size slightly; the age of war clearing from his metallic armour and skin.

Starscream had become a mechling again.

The surrounding optics stared at the still-downed seeker, but random beams of violet light distracted them and they realised all to late that they were deigned for the same fate...

_*Mechling - Teenager *Youngling - Child_


	4. Chapter 4

Ratchet glanced around the ship that was supposed to be taking them to the school grounds. It was the same ship that the Decepticons had first arrive to Cybertron on, only this time, both Decepticons and Autobots were on board (as it seemed that the Decepticons had originally only half-filled it).

Speaking of said Cybertronians, Ratchet noted that, like him, they had become younger (mechling-aged) and had shrunk slightly in size to accommodate their age. The only exceptions to these changes were the cassettes as they were already at the age at which they would be first starting high school; "first years" so to speak. Another difference was the lack of insignia adorning each mech and femmes' armour and the weapons, which had been removed without anyone noticing due to their unconscious state from before.

As Omega Supreme was so big, he had been ordered to return to Earth and enter a stasis lock (which he would normally do anyway) thereby only onlining when needed or told to by the Elders.

As the ship neared the co-ordinates, Ratchet mused how weird their situation had become in such a short space of time. The Decepticons and Autobots had refused to co-operate with each other (even though they would have to eventually) and had, as a result, sat on opposite sides of the ship. The medic also pondered on how the campus they had met on arrival - which had been revealed as their current destination - was so different from the rest of Cybertron; how had none of the campus' residents noticed?

The answer came to Ratchet like an epiphany as soon as the scenery changed from the desolate ruins of Cybertron's cities, to the lone campus, beautifully set in the planet's countryside.

A hologram.

Another hologram had deceived the students (and most probably staff) into believing that the surrounding area was also countryside, rather than the destroyed cities, which actually surrounded them.

The sip was programmed to land in front of the school's main entrance, where it seemed that a member of staff was already waiting patiently for the "new students" arrival.

It became increasingly clear that none of the staff knew about the newly-dubbed students' predicament as the secretary introduced herself.

"My designation is Mrs. Hill and welcome to Anford High. I am the school's secretary and therefore any requests of absence and/or other notifications are sent directly to me," the small, gold and blue Polyhexian femme greeted warmly.

A few murmurs met her introduction.

"Right then, I understand that your previous school was shut down due to some health risks, and that most of you are in the final year, with the exception of you ten?" Asked the elderly femme as she looked pointedly at both lots of cassettes.

This time, looks of confusion graced each "students'" faceplate.

_Health risks?_

The secretary either didn't notice, or didn't care.

"I can see that you are all a little shy, but don't worry, that is to be expected. I have been informed that you would prefer to stay on campus rather than go home in the evening. That's fine. Considering you all know each other, I thought it would be best for you to share rooms with each other, rather than stay with pupils already on the site."

Looks of alarm crossed each mech and femmes' faceplate.

"Erm... excuse me, did you say 'share rooms with each other'?" Red Alert asked in shock.

The femme nodded in confusion.

"As in... all of us? Together?"

The femme smiled.

"Don't worry. You will be separated into pairs or threes. Small groups if I think necessary. I have read each of your files and I know that there are trines and gestalts joining us."

_'No doubt those files were made up.' _Ratchet mused.

He wasn't entirely incorrect; data had been omitted from the files (by the Elders) to hide certain facts about each of the new students (such as their faction, most details of their ID etc.), however, certain traits (e.g. personality) had been left untouched.

The femme's smile did not waver, even as a few Decepticons (and some Autobots) shot the secretary some filthy looks.

"Let me run through the rules and what is to be expected of you if you are going to be attending Anford High. Due to some recent refurbishing works, we expect all our students to be mature and well behaved around dangerous building sites. That is, no fighting, no running into restricted areas, no bothering the builders and certainly no chewing. I know this may seem odd, but the school is charged for every drop of energon gum that you drop, as it takes time and resources to extract it from the new building works in order for the workers to continue. Understood?" The femme had suddenly turned deadly serious as she mentioned the latter part, making some of the assembled Cybertronians think twice about this femme's seemingly soft behaviour.

"As you already know, you will be required to share rooms to save space however, there is a curfew of 10:30 PM and anyone caught outside of their dormitories outside of this time will be dealt with accordingly."

"Com. links and any other form of interactive communication are banned during school time whereas music devices are banned through lessons only. No exceptions. If you are caught disobeying these rules, your device will be confiscated and you will receive a detention."

"School starts promptly at 8:45 AM and ends at 3:15 PM. You are free to do anything you wish outside of these times. However, you are only allowed to leave the school within a range of 15 miles. Your spark energy is monitored, meaning we can tell if you are not within these limits."

"Your timetable consists of a tutor period, one class in the morning, then break, two classes, followed by lunch, then finally, last two lessons. Your timetable is waiting for you in your designated dormitory along with your school planner, in which you will write any homework or outside research specified by your teacher. Don't be late to lessons."

"Considering this is the first day back of the new term, you should explore the school and get to get grips on where things are, including your dormitories, as they are not all in the same building, or as we call them, blocks. You should also find your form room, as you will be using it every morning except for Wednesdays, when you have assembly."

"The school is divided up into 'blocks' and each one holds a specific class, for example S-block is home to the science department. Some of these blocks are part of the old building and will soon be knocked down. Others are part of the new building. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask your form teacher, or Principal, Mr. Young, if you feel that he is required. Good luck on your first day."

And with those parting words, the secretary briskly paced off.

The remaining 'bots and 'cons stood there, helplessly, looking at one another for a moment before Optimus coughed nervously and mumbled, "Better do as she says..." and with that, the Autobots dragged their feet slowly to explore their new home for the next year.

The Decepticons were a little more enthusiastic, or at least some were.

"C'mon TC, Screamer! I wanna see what type of pranks I can pull here!" And with that, Skywarp blasted his thrusters and catapulted into the air with his trine mates in tow, but at a much more sedated pace.

The Constructicons shrugged, and then walked off into the opposite direction, with hopes of seeing just how _incompetent _these so called 'builders' could be.

The rest of the Decepticons broke of in dribs and drabs as they too, explored the campus.

* * *

_'It truly was amazing' _thought Prowl as he wandered down another corridor in hopes of finding his room (which he soon realized had temporary nameplates fixed across each door so as to inform each Cybertronian on who they would be sharing with). He had to admit that he wasn't struck on the maths department being in a temporary block, as the building looked rather like what humans would use when they are in public and need to rid themselves of excess waste. What were they called again? Ah, yes.

Port-a-loo.

And they were blue. Excellent.

To be fair though, there wasn't much he could complain about (although he knew that would probably change later on) and the new buildings were actually very advanced for a school. They had all the latest projectors and even acid tanks in the science block. The new blocks looked very modern; the highly polished glass walls and metallic finish seemed very professional, yet student-friendly. Everything was arranged in a logical order. Even the old blocks were arranged to be easy-to-use, but the tactician wasn't very fond of the wire-like carpets and the hollow walls that the old blocks sported. The old buildings were mismatched too; three buildings were very sturdy, with brick walls to support a waterproof roof (N-block, art block and the music block). The other building was supposedly temporary with a lifespan of 5 years, yet it had been up for over 16. Acid rain had already managed to seep through the wall and the windows (how was that possible?) and had therefore wrecked some of the work displayed on the walls. The worst part was that the block (A-block) was made out of a similar material to human cardboard, or so Prowl judged by the hole shaped like a pede in one of the walls. It was also a little concerning that he had overheard a teacher telling a student to 'not sit on the floor or you'll catch nano-lice'... The idea that the floor could move under his pedes was not pleasant.

Prowl came to a halt at a door in the corridor of one of the buildings assigned as a dormitory block.

'Well, I won't be getting much recharge over the next year' he mused as he read his designation under that of his roommate's.

* * *

'I'd better tell Jazz who he'll be staying with...'

Blaster sighed as he strolled down the corridor to find his quarters. Really, the place wasn't actually that bad; he could certainly get used to having a block designated solely for music, no matter how small it was, the fact was that there were still musical instruments and other equipment that he could play with. He supposed that having a roommate wasn't too bad; maybe he could even mix a few tunes with the mech, depending on their tastes. He was a little upset at not having his creations in the same room as him, but it was understandable considering the fact that the staff believed that he was in the final year whereas they had just started; there wasn't enough of an age gap between them. Fortunately, both sets of cassettes got to stay with their siblings in their own room. What he didn't know, was that _all_ the animal-like cassettes would be staying in one room, whereas both lots of mechlings would be staying next door to their siblings...

Blaster stopped dead in his tracks as he came to his room and re-read the designation printed under his. There had to be some sort of mistake; he couldn't possibly be meant to share with this particular mech. They hated each other's diodes! The boom box growled as he glared daggers at the designation.

There was no way he'd have any fun with this mech and he certainly wasn't going to be mixing any tunes with _Soundwave._

* * *

Megatron stalked down the corridors leading to his dormitory. This really was a terrible place. He had been stripped of all freedom and was constantly under surveillance by teachers and the Elders themselves. He just hoped that he could scare a few bolts out of his roommate with his raging temper; hopefully he would be roomed with Starscream, then he could beat the scrap out of the seeker without anyone noticing, after all, they couldn't be watched in their own rooms.

The tyrant inwardly laughed as he thought of rooming with one of Prime's minibots. Bumblebee would have been an easy target to destroy both physically and emotionally.

Megatron's mood had been lifted considerably as he finally got to the end of the corridor to come face to face with his intended destination...

Only to gape at whom he would be sharing with.

The gun-former roared in outrage and punched the nearest wall as he realised that he would be staying with none other than Optimus Prime...

* * *

**A/N:** Wooo! Final chappie done for the set up. The next one will start going into the events that have happened in my friend's or my lives! If anyone has had something funny, shocking or just plain weird happen to them, please review and I'll add it to the list of ever growing events! Thanks! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Morning broke, bringing with it the first cycle of school for the new _'students'_.

A younger-looking Sideswipe almost skipped down the halls; a clear indication to everyone that the red twin was either plotting, or just teasing his brother. Either way, it would probably lead to trouble.

"C'mon Sunny!" Exclaimed the cheery mech. "This could be a lot of fun! New mechs and femmes to meet, teachers to pester, and best of all, seekers to bug without the possibility of them blasting our heads off!"

Sunstreaker, ever the enthusiast, rolled his optics.

"So in other words, different ways for you to be punished due to your stupidity and then for me to be somehow dragged into it, through no fault of my own? And my designation is Sunstreaker."

Sideswipe shook his head good- naturedly.

"You can't honestly say that you don't love a good prank, Sunshine; it's as much your weakness as it is mine!"

Sunstreaker refused to answer, but if anyone had walked past, they would have spotted a small smile forming on the yellow mech's faceplate.

"Enough being annoying. Who did you say our form tutor was?"

Sideswipe frowned in thought.

"Apparently a mech designated _'Mr. Woodhall'_; head of Geography." The frontline warrior suddenly grinned. "Sounds like a softie."

Sunstreaker smirked, a mischievous glint entering his optics.

"Right behind you bro'..."

* * *

Skywarp looked utterly dejected as he trudged through the corridors of the Geography block, Thundercracker following closely behind.

"Why couldn't they have put Star with us; they know he's trine," Skywarp pouted miserably.

Thundercracker sighed.

"I don't know 'Warp, but look on the bright side; at least we all share the same room, and we can meet up during break and lunch even if we're not in the same classes."

The purple seeker visibly perked up at that.

"I suppose you're right TC, and besides, I'm sure there are some teachers waiting to be pranked, starting with this _'Woodhall'_ guy!"

Thundercracker chuckled at his trine-mate's abrupt change in mood.

"Just try not to get me into too much trouble. I don't think Screamer will be too pleased."

Skywarp laughed before slinging an arm over the blue jet's shoulder.

"He would be even less pleased if I managed to get you scrapped up by those Lambo twins!"

Thundercracker snorted at the thought.

"I feel sorry for whoever has the same classes as those hellions..."

* * *

A lithe, blue and white sports car and an Earth-green tracker chatted amiably as they walked to their form room. They considered themselves to be rather lucky, as not only were they in the same tutor group, they also shared the same living quarters for the following year. Hound and Mirage may have not been best of friends, but they knew each other well enough and at least they were sharing with another Autobot rather than a violent Decepticon.

"Do you think that this _'Mrs. Sethom'_ will like us?" Hound asked quietly.

"I don't really know. I suppose we will have to determine her personality before we can make any decisions on whether or not she'll like us," the spy shrugged.

Hound frowned briefly before asking, "Isn't she supposed to be an art teacher?"

Mirage groaned, "Great. Another Sunstreaker..."

Hound chuckled.

"You never know Mirage, there might be an artist who's not a temperamental diva."

Mirage smirked.

"The day that happens will be the day Megatron asks Prime to bond with him!"

Both 'bots laughed at the thought of the large grey tyrant kneeling on one knee and, with wide; hopeful optics, asking for Optimus' spark.

The two Autobots finally reached their designated form room, which was part of a small building which you could walk straight into from outside, meaning that when sitting in their form room, they had a clear view of the courtyard, where the various years played. Both spy and tracker found that, like most artists' work rooms, the whole area was littered with lose papers, paints, pencils, sketches and anything else that could possibly relate to art. There was no one else in the room, not even a teacher, which probably meant that they were quite early.

Mirage visibly deflated at the mess, whilst Hound inspected a few drawings of Cybertronian landscapes.

Suddenly, scuffling could be heard from around the corner, which both 'bots guessed was the staff room.

"I thought I'd made it quite clear to you lot that you're not allowed in here any more! I've got better things to be doing than dealing with the likes of those who can't be bothered to put any effort whatsoever into their work! I had this all last year with you; I'm not having it again!" A femme a little taller than Bumblebee paced briskly into the classroom and upon realising that her rant had been unloaded onto the wrong mechs, her face softened from the original scowl resting upon it.

"I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else when I heard the two of you come in so quietly." The florescent green, black and violet femme apologised in a quieter tone.

The Seeker femme glanced at both mechs' frames, before her dark-red optics brightened in recognition.

"Ah! You must be the two new mechs becoming part of my form, I presume? Can I get your designations?"

"I'm Hound, and this is Mirage," Hound replied as he gestured to the sports car, to which Mirage nodded slightly.

"Excellent! At least one of you isn't too shy. We'll work on that," the femme said as she glanced at Mirage. "But I'm hoping that you will enjoy my form periods, and don't be afraid to ask me anything if you need to; I'm here to help."

The femme turned on her heel and walked towards the door from where she came, before coming to a halt and looking back over her shoulder at the two mechs she left standing in the middle of the room.

"Forgot to mention, it's fine with me, but other teachers prefer it if you wait outside the door to be called in when the lesson starts." With that, the Seeker disappeared around the corner.

Mirage shuttered his optics in shock before turning almost comically towards Hound.

"_'We'll work on that'_?" Mimicked Mirage, exasperatedly.

Hound tried to stifle a laugh before shrugging. "She seems nice, a little straight-forward maybe."

Mirage frowned.

"Do you think we should warn Optimus?"

The tracker raised a questioning optical ridge. "What do you mean?"

"She's not temperamental."

* * *

Starscream growled as he stalked down the corridors of the Geography block. How could they separate him from his trine? He needed to talk to the organiser... whoever that was.

The irate jet came to a halt at the end of the corridor, where there were two rooms leading to another two classrooms. The one on the right had the words _'Mr. Woodhall'_ printed on a thin piece of metal, which had been glued to the door. The one on the left had the words _'Mr. Pentic'_ and _'Mrs. Hi-Bred'_ engraved on a thin piece of metal.

Starscream cocked an optic ridge.

Wasn't 'Woodhall' the name of his trine's tutor?

Starscream shrugged; he must have been earlier than he first thought. Maybe they were on their way.

The jet's wings perked up at that. He was only next-door after all!

The Seeker peered through the left open door and realised that his form room was behind this 'Mr. Pentic's' room, meaning he would have to walk through their class to get to his own.

Fortunately, no one was in the room yet.

Starscream strolled through the first room and into his own, only to find that he wasn't alone.

A cherry-red and white Autobot was inspecting the displays on the walls and probably hadn't even noticed his arrival. That would change...

"Autobrat!"

The medic turned in a state of shock before narrowing his optics at the newly assembled mech.

"What do you want 'Con?" Ratchet hissed at the intruder.

Starscream smirked and confidently strode over to the slightly smaller mech.

"Oh, nothing really. Might be nice to see you self-combust, or have an accident with a main energon line, but nothing out of the ordinary."

Ratchet snarled at the cocky jet.

"Are all you Decepticreeps such happy thinkers, or is that just a trait you reserve for your over-inflated ego?"

Starscream sneered.

"Don't think yourself too innocent _Ratchet_; we've heard all about your temper tantrums you throw when in contact with those glitched-processored twins. You can be quite the nasty piece of work when you want, can't you?"

The medic glared contemptibly at the tri-coloured Seeker, deciding to change the subject.

"Am I to assume that you will be gracing me with your presence in this class?"

"You assume correctly."

"How wonderful..."

"But of course, dear medic."

Ratchet sighed and rolled his optics.

"Because the Elders found it to be such a brilliant idea that we form a _temporary_ truce, I will restrain myself from tearing out your optic sockets. However, any funny business, and I won't be able to make any promises."

Starscream was mildly surprised at this 'Bot's apparent dry sense of humour. Not only that, but Ratchet actually had the intellect to banter with him; a lot of mechs were either too stupid to keep up, or (in the cases of mechs like Soundwave) had more _important _issues to attend to rather than hold an interesting conversation.

Apparently, he had the best choice out of the Autobots. Not that any of them were a _good choice_...


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: In my mind, Transformers have the same instruments as us, just a little... bigger. Also, in case people were wondering about the weird names, they have been changed slightly from the real teachers (so it's kind of an inside joke between my closest friends), yet the personality of each teacher will not change from the original teacher (i.e. these teachers are all real!). Another reminder that __**these events have actually happened**__ to me, or friends (so review if you've had any weird days)! _

* * *

If anyone had told Rumble and Frenzy ten minutes ago that in ten minutes, they would be enjoying a form _class_ with an older teacher, at 8:50 AM, and to top it all off, with the Autobot cassettes, the terrible twins would have told that someone where to shove it. However, what they didn't realise at the time, was that this _old _teacher was _'Mr. Reed' _and was in fact, a music teacher with a brilliant sense of humour and talent to match. Right now, he was welcoming his new form of first-years (which included Eject, Rewind, Frenzy and Rumble, and the other 26 mechs and femmes) with a classical piece of music.

Played on a saw.

And boy could he work that blade. The mech (a medium-sized, chestnut, gold and red-plated, Iaconian mech) was using a violin bow to ring out clear, precise notes from the teeth of the wood-saw, and the sound was unbelievably amazing!

Eject and Rewind, too, were mesmerised by the audio-pleasing sound leaving the newly created instrument. Both mini-mechs shared a glance and each knew what the other was thinking:

_'If only Blaster had been here!'_

* * *

Wheeljack was grinning from audio to audio (although no one could tell because of the mask). Why? His form teacher was a complete pyromaniac! Well, that wasn't completely true; he was a physics teacher.

His teacher; a fiery-red and flaming-orange, sports-model, mech called _'Mr. Mc-G' _loved his subject and also liked to show others that he loved his subject.

Wheeljack had found it exceptionally funny when Perceptor, Skyfire and he had walked into the form room, sat down to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, to find that the sports car had produced a bottle of ethanol and quizzed his class on it's properties. The funny part was when the teacher thought that Perceptor wasn't listening (he was taking notes) and had proceeded to tell the students on the microscope's table to quietly stand back, after which he poured the contents of the bottle in a trail onto the length of the desk.

The he lit a flint.

To say that Perceptor had been shocked to see the table he was writing on burst into flames would have been the understatement of the century; the red mech had literally flown 20 feet into the air and soon found himself being carried bridle style by Skyfire.

Wordlessly, Mr. Mc-G had paced to Perceptor's note sheet, had looked at it curiously, nodded his head and smiled at the microscope. "Carry on," he had smirked before turning his back and muttering, "swat."

Right now, Perceptor was fuming at the notion that his form teacher already wanted to deactivate him; he hadn't even been here for a whole day and somebody wanted to kill him! The large, white shuttle seemed oddly quiet yet somehow, Wheeljack got the idea that Skyfire was secretly holding back a few laughs of his own, but didn't want to upset the red mech by letting them escape. Wheeljack had no such conscience and was quite happily teasing the microscope.

"Ye should've seen yer face Percy! Ye looked like ye'd just been struck by lightning! It was hillarious!" The lancia laughed.

Perceptor scowled.

* * *

Red Alert shuddered. He just knew that this day was going to go wrong somehow. He hated not being in contact with the Ark, he hated being away from his security systems and he most definitely hated being stuck with the Decepticons.

His timetable said that his first lesson (after form) was language with _'Miss. Pit' _and frankly, that scared him.

He had his lesson with Inferno (not bad) and Dirge (bad), but he'd heard others in the same class as him say that Miss. Pit didn't put up with nonsense and could hand out detentions quite easily. He'd also heard that the femme wasn't a brilliant teacher to begin with in both language and literature (as she apparently taught both).

A large hand rested on the lamborghini's shoulder.

"Calm down, Red," the owner whispered.

Red Alert shook the hand off.

"I can't, Inferno! Haven't you heard what the others are saying? This 'Miss. Pit' sounds dreadful!" Red Alert hissed.

Inferno shook his head.

"C'mon Red, Ah'm sure tha' they're jus' exaggeratin'; she can' be tha' bad!"

Red Alert pouted, at which Inferno laughed.

"Just you wait. You'll see..." Muttered the red and white sports car.

"Ugh. If she makes us do another apostrophe test or tells us how to use a comma again, I think I'm going to flip!" A mech groaned from where he was stood in line, waiting to enter the classroom.

"I know what ya mean; she moaned all last year about it. I mean, we're in the last year for goodness' sake!" Grouched another.

"Yeah, well, we're all thick remember, and we all need help with beginning sentences with capital letters and using full stops," replied a femme sarcastically.

A few murmurs of agreement met the statement.

"Come in," called a high-pitched voice. It belonged to a ruby red, bronze and navy blue femme (with a ponytail).

Dirge thought she was rather pretty... for a grounder...

"I've been told that there are three new students joining us. Can you all say 'hello' to Dirge, Inferno and Red Alert?" Asked the femme politely.

A few enthusiastic 'hi there's greeted the new students audios as they sat down at their desks, which were placed in rows (two to a table).

Miss. Pit nodded in thanks before saying, "I hope you three all make some new friends and just enjoy the time that you are in my lessons." She smiled warmly before getting down to business.

"Right class, I've reviewed your books aver the holidays and I've noticed that a lot of you are using formal openings in your essays. On your desk is an essay explaining to the Principal why your year group should be allowed to go on more school trips. The essay is worth a 'D' grade. I want you to change it into an 'A*'. To start off with, the text opens with 'I am writing to inform you...' however, I want you to come up with a more creative beginning sentence. You should remember to use the persuasive techniques you've been taught. Start."

Styluses could be heard scratching at the electronic tablets (a transformer's equivalent of pen and paper) as students were enlightened with lots of new openings to the essay. Unfortunately, this was not helpful to the three new mechs as they had no idea what counted as creative here. Unsurprisingly, the teacher realised this and walked over to the new students (who had to sit together in a line on the front tables as all the others were taken).

"Don't worry if you're not sure what to do, I will ask the class for some examples and you'll get the hang of it. If not, feel free to ask me," whispered Miss. Pit. Inferno, Red Alert and Dirge just nodded wordlessly.

After a few minutes, Miss. Pit asked, "Does anyone have a beginning they'd like to share?"

A tall, black and blue mech raised his hand.

"Yes?"

The mech cleared his vocaliser. "I am entreating this proposal to you on terms of enlightening us with the notion of-"

"That'll do. You have to remember that this is an assessment on your ability to use _persuasive techniques_; not the amount of complex vocabulary you can cram into one sentence." Miss. Pit sighed.

A few snickers escaped the class as the mech who had just spoken grinned slyly.

_'Let the games begin.'_

"Anyone else?" The teacher asked.

Another mech put his hand up and the teacher motioned him to continue.

"Change is the law of life," the mech began as if he were being interviewed, "and those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future."

A few louder giggles could be heard.

The teacher groaned.

"A little too philosophic."

"Sentinel Prime quote, Miss."

"I'm sure it is... anyone else?"

A green and aqua blue mech raised his arm to which the teacher, once again, nodded.

"Listen up and listen well, you beautiful, beautiful mech!"

Full-blown laughter blasted out as the teacher literally slapped her faceplate.

"It's flattery Miss; a persuasive technique."

Miss. Pit laughed in helplessness. "You have to be careful of your audience, Brook. Please, can one of you just give me the relief that you can at least do this for your exam? Yes, Jet?"

Another mech had indicated that he wanted to speak.

"We've passed through the seven levels of the candy-cane forest, through the sea of twirly, whirly gum drops, and then walked the-"

A shout of "Elf quote" was heard and everybody (even the teacher to a point) burst into laughter once more. Even Red Alert and Dirge had trouble trying to hold the laughter in; Inferno looked like he had gone into a fit.

The teacher calmed down and managed to quieten the class.

"I need you all to focus. The essay is a letter to the Principal and I need you to write a _suitable_ opening which will immediately attract his interest without the use of quotes or exaggerated flattery and vocabulary."

"I've got one Miss!"

"Yes, Jay?"

The mech grinned before proudly reciting, "I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want..."

The teacher once again groaned as she lost the class to an eruption of laughter.

"That includes **no song lyrics**!"

* * *

In a dark room located inside an eerie cavern on the other side of Cybertron, a shaded figure turned from a monitor displaying live footage of a teacher who had lost control of her class to a fit of snickers and giggles.

"They seem to be settling in. No problems with violence yet."

"Good," a second figure replied in a deep, gravely voice, "the less trouble they cause, the more time we have."

"Hmmm. Without disruptions, our plan should work perfectly," a third figure grinned menacingly.

"Who knew getting rid of those Autobrats and Deceptigoons would be so easy?" The first figure smirked.

A fourth figure, much slimmer than the rest, stalked into the main control room.

"The others are on schedule. Earth will be ours in no time," it's voice hissed.

"Excellent. Those organics won't know what hit them," said the second figure.

"And what of the planet when we're done with it?" Inquired the fourth figure curiously.

The others growled in disgust, before the second one replied with nonchalance.

"Destroy it."

* * *

_A/N: Uh-oh. Looks like someone's planning something that's looking bad for Earthlings!_

_The "Sentinel Prime quote" is actually a JFK quote._

_Hope you enjoyed and don't forget to R&R - It keeps the plot bunnies fed! ().()_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: As pointed out by Klicks (thanks), g1 Blitzwing does not have a german accent, so I have changed a few lines to compensate for the mistake. Sorry about that... ^.^; _

* * *

Optimus heaved a great sigh. Not only had he been roomed with Megatron, he now had the pleasure of accompanying the grey tyrant to his second class, which was 'Modern Foreign Languages' (or 'MFL' for less of a mouthful).

"Who do they think they are?!" Roared Megatron as he continued talking to no one in particular, "How on Cybertron can they possibly think that **I** will stoop so low as to talk to these _dimwits _who know nothing about reality?!"

Optimus was actually past the point of trying to figure out who Megatron was talking about; he had realised that the floor was a surprisingly interesting thing to look at when standing next to an outraged, enormous, grey Darth Vader (he'd seen enough _'Star Wars'_ films to notice the likeness between the two. As long as Megatron didn't turn out to be Bumblebee's creator, then he would be fine with the similarities).

Anyway, back to MFL. Apparently they had a teacher called _'Mr. Sand'_ and the Autobot leader had heard from other students that the mech was very patient and overall, just a good mech to talk to.

Optimus smiled. Maybe this situation wasn't all too dire...

As Prime entered the classroom, he realised that there was no seating plan and that there were only four mechs in the class surrounded by femmes (aside from the new students), unfortunately, the only other free seat that didn't have him sitting next to the other leader, was a chair by the side of a blue and white, visored mech. Soundwave, to be precise. Why wasn't the telepath sitting next to his leader? Oh well.

Soundwave wanted to squirm. He was glad that he didn't have to sit next to his own leader, not with Megatron in the mood that he was currently in however, he wasn't all too thrilled about being positioned next to the Autobot leader either. At least he had less of a chance of being struck sitting here...

"Hello class," greeted the teacher warmly, "I see that we have some new faces amongst us! Would you like to introduce yourselves?"

Optimus couldn't help but see the irony in the teacher's designation. This 'Mr. Sand' was comprised with the two main colours found on an Earth beach: blue with sandy-yellow highlights.

"Which one of you is Megatron?" Asked the teacher politely.

The gunformer stood and proudly announced, "I am! And it's _Lord Megatron_ to you!"

A few snickers and rolling of optics answered the statement. The teacher merely frowned and Optimus could guess exactly what was going through his processor.

"...Yes, well... which one of you is Optimus?"

"Here, sir," smiled the truck politely.

Mr. Sand beamed at the behaviour. Finally, someone whom his class could take a lesson in manners with.

"Good to meet you, and finally, Soundwave. Where are you?"

Soundwave glanced up to the teacher.

"Sir," he offered in his recognisable monotone.

This strange speech pattern didn't seem to bother the teacher; even the students didn't seem too fazed by it (although there were a couple of curious looks in the telepath's direction).

_'A little shy, maybe, but nonetheless respectful,'_ mused the teacher fondly.

"I'm not quite sure what you studied in your old school, but this term, we're going to be continuing with _our _study of a small planet a fair distance from our own. As you know, Cybertron has many different dialects when travelling from city to city however, this particular planet not only has thousands of different accents; it also has hundreds of different languages. We are studying one of the more used languages: _Français_," informed the teacher as he looked directly at the new students.

Optimus had to repress a laugh. Of all the different planets in the Universe, they just had to study an Earth language. Bet old Megsy wasn't too pleased about that...

"Now, shall we show our guests what we've learned? Où est la cuisine?" Asked the teacher.

A glossy black, red and blue femme raised her hand.

"Oui, Elize?"

"La cuisine au rez de chausée."

"Très bien!"

The femme nodded to her friends in a smug manner and a smaller femme wrote something down whilst the mech next to her mock pouted.

"If we want something burnt, or 'well done', how do we ask for it?" Inquired Mr. Sand.

The ruby-red and bronze femme next to Soundwave shot her hand up.

"Yes Raven?"

"Bien frère!"

The teacher seemed a little shocked at first but soon got over it.

"No, Raven, you have just asked for a burnt brother or a good brother."

The femme visibly deflated as the rest of the class giggled at her mistake. Megatron smirked and muttered under his breath, "moron."

"The answer is _'bien cuire'_. Now, can anyone tell me what a 'dynametal duck' is in Français?"

The pouting mech from before raised his arm.

"Yes, Scandium?"

"Cunard?"

Soundwave gave an incredulous look to the mech (although the visor and mask diminished the effect). The teacher also seemed as if he had lost hope.

"That's a ship."

"Oh."

"_Un canard_."

"Oh, yeah."

Once again, the smaller femme wrote something down, whilst the glossy black, red and blue one's smirk grew even larger as she stared pointedly at the mech. The mech just grinned goofily at her and Soundwave could just about make out the mouthed words, _'next lesson I'll beat you!' _Were they playing some sort of game that the teacher didn't know about?

Soundwave mentally shrugged and tuned back into the rest of the lesson.

* * *

Blitzwing and Astrotrain walked side-by-side in silence as they travelled to their next lesson. There was no need for talking, as both triple-changers already knew that they were in the same class as each other (P.E.), with the same teacher (_'Mr. Al'_).

They were doing outdoor P.E. according to their classmates and the other mechs had informed them that they were supposed to be partaking in some track events, which included the field run. They had overheard that it was the longest run: 20 miles (they are a lot bigger than us).

Both triple-changers arrived at the changing rooms and to their surprise (more like horror) realised that Ironhide, Warpath and Powerglide would be joining in on the fun. Great.

After the mechs had removed all their heavy armour and replaced it with the lightweight armour which was considered as uniform (in the new students' cases, any equipment needed for school had been left for them in their dormitories), they all wandered over to the track. The teacher, a dull black and dark green mech, had made them do some warm-ups and a few stretches and had promptly begun the field event.

Blitzwing and Ironhide had already taken to snapping at each other's necks, whereas Warpath and Astrotrain had merely decided to give each other dirty glances.

"Tell me, are all you Autobots this weak or is it just in _your_ personality chip?" Spat Blitzwing.

"Why don' ya fix tha' speech pattern o' yours, 'fore someone thinks tha' it's rainin'?" Growled Ironhide.

"You seem very cocky, Autoscum. Why don't you put your energon where your mouth is and show me your skills? How fast can you sprint?"

"Very," smirked Ironhide. He was made for this type of thing; he was a warrior after all, he had to be fairly fast.

A few minutes after the teacher blew the whistle, Blitzwing twigged that the Weapons specialist was indeed a great deal faster than him. When he looked back to see how his comrade was doing, he noticed that Astrotrain seemed to be having more luck than him in beating an Autobot, as Warpath seemed to be struggling to keep up with that bulky frame of his.

Blitzwing growled slightly as he noted that Ironhide had already finished yet he himself still had a few thousand metres to go.

Ironhide's fans were whirring at their greatest capacity to keep the red mech cool, but he still managed to grin at the wearily approaching triple changer and murmured, "Told ya," before striding back to Mr. Al.

When all the students had finished, Mr. Al read back their times and told them that he wanted to try something else with them considering there were a few minutes left of the lesson. He led them over to a sand pit where he proceeded to describe the rules of the running long jump.

All the mechs were to have a try and Blitzwing couldn't resist the smirk that was forming on his mouth. The Weapons specialist may be a good runner, but he wasn't a flyer and jumping was right up Blitzwing's street with him being an expert in the air and all.

The triple changers took their turns before the two Autobots and managed to obtain one of the highest scores in the class. _'Naturally,' _thought Astrotrain as he watched Warpath do a wobbly jump, yet still manage to recover in the landing. The tank had got an average score.

Now it was Ironhide's turn. To the loud mech's dismay, the red van had managed to complete an excellent run and a perfect jump...

Only to land face-first into the sandpit.

The two Decepticons cackled as Warpath ran to help his comrade up. Even the other students were full-out laughing at the red van's misfortune and it took a few moments for the teacher to manage to calm everyone down. Ironhide's flushed faceplate didn't help matters and the Decepticons collapsed in a heap of giggles.

As the students walked back into the changing rooms, a few mechs caught up with the embarrassed mech to pat him on the back. Ironhide was about to retort when a couple of the mechs said, "Don't worry dude," and "It happens to the best of us." A few even admitted that they had done worse in the past and that the Weapon's specialist "shouldn't dwell on it as life sucks."

That wiped the grins of the triple-changers' faces.

* * *

_A/N: A big thank you to Fox Tamer 113 for the sand pit bit!_

_If anyone has had any weird/ shocking/ funny days please review. Also, if you want any specific characters in the next chapter, then please review! Thanks! 3_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Couldn't resist the Doctor Who reference. Anyway, thanks for the reviews! Enjoy!_

* * *

Starscream once again found himself in the Geography block. He had only been in the school for half a day and somehow he had managed to traipse back to the same building twice. It was now period 4 (just after lunch break) and after spending the entire 50 minutes in the company of his wing mates, the SIC had reluctantly broken away from the other two and had unwillingly walked to his next lesson with _'Mr. Pentic'_.

Don't get him wrong, the polished black, white and silver mech had seemed decent (if not a little too smiley), but it was the students in the class that bothered Starscream.

Skyfire was joining him.

And if that wasn't sufficiently awkward enough, the teacher had made a seating plan which required the two to sit together. _Great._ Oh, and did he mention this was a double lesson? **Two **hours of awkwardness. Double great.

"Welcome to Anford High; I am Mr. Pentic. Now, I know you've both missed the field day to Gallifrey because that was last term, however, we are only just starting our coursework for the 'Central Business District' topic. The results from the field day include a pedestrian count, a landuse survey, a building height survey and a questionnaire of your own choice," introduced the teacher, grinning broadly (could this teacher not display any other emotion?). He then indicated to a nearby student; a small femme with gold plating and light blue highlights with silver streaks adorning her armour.

"This is Sodium. She has completed all the research to do with Gallifrey and she will e-mail you the first three results. The fourth result must come from a hypothesis of your own, meaning that you don't need to be on the field day to complete it. As we are working on computers today, you can search the student-shared database to get some ideas for a suitable fourth hypothesis. As this is a controlled assessment piece of coursework, talking is not permitted, and it would be a lot easier for me if I didn't have to have a go at you for asking a question to one of your neighbours. It is much easier if you just ask me, especially if it is just a silly question about the time - I don't want to have to disqualify you. Okay?"

The two flyers nodded mutely before sitting in their designated seats. After they had logged on to their account, both flyers looked at the database for some ideas, just as the teacher had described.

After a few minutes, both jet and shuttle had found a suitable hypothesis and had begun to login to their e-mail account to obtain the correct data results.

Only to find that they weren't there.

Starscream frowned.

"Sodium-?"

"Starscream," warned Mr. Pentic.

Starscream turned around slowly to face the teacher and even Skyfire sneaked a quick glance in the older mech's direction.

"I was just going to ask her to send me the results," admitted the tri-coloured jet.

"You have to ask me first if you can ask her a question," replied the teacher, staring evenly at his student.

Starscream bit his lip components in frustration.

"Sir, would it be alright if I asked Sodium a question?" Tried Starscream.

"Of course. What is it about?"

"Can I ask her if she can send me the results?"

"Yes, that's fine, Starscream."

The Decepticon turned to the femme, who was smiling amusedly.

"Sodium, could you please send me the data set?"

"Of course," replied the femme easily.

"Thank you," muttered the flustered jet, after which, the whole class seemed to laugh in unison.

Someone else beside him snickered quietly and Starscream twisted around to find the usually placid jet trying to hold back a smile whilst he stared intently at his computer screen.

Starscream murmured something under his breath, which made Skyfire's grin grow larger.

"Subtle," the tri-coloured jet had whispered, earning him a merry glance from his ex-partner in science.

For a moment, both flyers' optics had met, and Starscream had seen something in the optics of the 'Bot that he hadn't seen in a long time on the faceplate of anyone, except his trine-mates.

Happiness.

Not the kind of glee that the other 'Cons had when they had a victory over the Autobots, or when Megatron had thought of a plan to deactivate Optimus Prime, but a true happiness, like when you're near a close friend. It had been so long since anyone had truly felt such an emotion in his faction; in fact, no one had displayed the emotion since the war had started. Maybe it was time for change.

Starscream couldn't help but return the gesture.

* * *

Ravage watched as her two brothers and sister wearily ambled into their respective berths. Today had been tough. Their smaller size compared to the other mechs and femmes in their year group meant that their extra body parts (i.e. tails, paws and wings) were constantly trodden on. Their animal-like features also meant a lot of teasing from other students. Ravage had tried to protect her younger siblings (many thought that they were the same age and it seemed that the elders had decided to put them in the same year group even though there was quite an age gap between them. The same had been done for Blaster's cassettes), but it was hard to protect them from everyone. Ravage mildly wondered if the Autobot cassettes were having the same trouble.

The feline growled to herself. How could she think of the Autobots at a time like this?

"Ravage?" Asked Buzzsaw, timidly.

The black cat quickly caught her mistake.

"Don't worry, Buzzsaw."

Ravage plodded over to her resting siblings.

"I'm just frustrated with the other students. It's not right how they treated us," admitted the feline.

Ratbat looked down solemnly.

"Do you think Rumble and Frenzy are okay?" He whispered hoarsely.

Ravage wrapped a paw around her youngest brother, whilst Laserbeak replied softly, "Those two will be just fine. They can handle themselves."

Ratbat snuggled closer to his oldest sister.

Suddenly, the door to their dormitory flung open and a terrific roar filled the room, startling all those present.

Ravage was immediately on the alert, baring her teeth at the intruder and a low, menacing snarl warning anyone to stay away from her family.

The door closed, revealing a laughing Steeljaw and Ramhorn.

"Hahahaha... you should've seen yourselves!" Wheezed Ramhorn, in between his fit of giggles.

"What happened to the _blood thirsty_ _Soundwave drones_ that we usually meet on the battlefield?" Smirked Steeljaw as he looked at the two condors and Ratbat.

Ravage did not move from her position in front of her siblings as she continued to snarl at the two idiots before her.

"Oh come on. It was just a joke - loosen up a little!" Sneered Ramhorn.

"What's the matter; cyber-cat got your glossa?" Asked Steeljaw as he padded nearer to the family.

"No, but one will have yours if you come any closer," threatened Ravage.

"Ouch," replied the lion, lifting a paw in mock hurt.

Buzzsaw and Laserbeak squawked in outrage at the offender, whilst Ramhorn just laughed at them.

"Grow up," growled the panther.

"What, like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means-"

A pause.

"What?"

No response.

"What?!"

Steeljaw's audios twitched.

"Did you hear that?"

Ravage growled once again.

"You're not fooling anyone Autoscum. Why don't you just leave us alone?!"

Steeljaw glanced warily towards the door and Ramhorn shifted nervously as he, too, glanced at the door.

"I'm not joking. There's something there," Steeljaw replied as he paced to stand next to his brother.

Ravage cocked an optical ridge at the odd behaviour. Something wasn't right. Was this an Autobot joke or were the Autobots telling the truth?

A quiet knock sounded on the door, making everybody shout in surprise.

Both lion and rhino edged closer to the rear wall where the Decepticon family were already in battle mode.

A few moments of silence lured the cassettes into a sense of security.

"Maybe it was just Rumble and Frenzy," argued Ratbat, hopefully.

The panther was about to nod her head when a large **BANG **rattled the door, and yells promising hurt sounded from outside.

The younger cassettes whimpered, whilst Ravage and Steeljaw bravely stood in front of their younger siblings, hissing and yowling at the unknown figures outside. Ramhorn eventually joined his brother in a defensive stance as they waited for the unwanted visitors to break in.

"Come out kitty cat," leered one of the mechs.

"Does Polly want a cracker?" Cackled another.

"Come and play, you stupid beasts!" Roared a particularly nasty-sounding mech.

The shout of a teacher was heard, followed by the skidding of feet as the mechs scrambled away from the scene.

The cassettes were left alone.

Both felines and the rhino relaxed after a few moments of silence. Ravage didn't give her enemies a second glance as she quickly turned to comfort her siblings. The small family huddled together and Steeljaw and Ramhorn, still shaken from the event, felt a sense of guilt as they watched the scene before them. Is this what the other cassettes had been like before the two had scared them at first?

The brothers shared a look before drooping their heads, ashamed. The Decepticon cassettes weren't actually that different from themselves; they were still a family and cared for each other deeply. They only had one creator caring for them, just like Ramhorn and Steeljaw did and it was obvious that these cassettes had also been abused by the other students, just like themselves. Maybe there was a chance of apologising, if only to take the guilt away?

"Sorry," muttered Steeljaw, uneasily.

The huddled cassettes raised their heads in a questioning manner.

"Excuse me?" Asked an astonished Ravage.

Ramhorn answered, still gazing at the floor, "We apologise for startling you earlier..."

The Decepticons looked at each other, shocked. Were the Autobots actually apologising to them, _Decepticons?_

"Errr... don't worry... about it..." stuttered Laserbeak.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed before someone finally spoke up.

"Well...umm... g'night," said Steeljaw as he and Ramhorn turned to walk tiredly to their berths.

As the lights extinguished, Ravaged whispered quietly, "Night," before drifting off to recharge.

She missed the small smile, which had formed on the still-online Steeljaw's face, just before he, also, succumbed to recharge.

* * *

_A/N: Awwwww... How cute..._

_Looks like relationships are starting to change between the 'bots and 'cons! :)_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N:_ _Woooh! Another chapter done. My muse wandered off for a while with this but it came back after my science exams were over. So as always, hope you enjoy and Read and Review to keep the muse chained to a post!_

* * *

"_Interesting..._" whispered a slender, shaded figure as he replayed a scene which he found rather suspicious.

The bulky mech next to him swivelled his head to glance curiously at his companion.

"What?"

The first mech shut the screen down that he had previously been observing to glance around their dimly lit surroundings. Considering that these surroundings consisted of mainly metal and rocks, there wasn't actually that much to look at. Although, when you work in a cave, what else is there to occupy you?

"It would seem as though we are going to have to deal with some...unexpected details_,_" informed the first mech.

The second mech growled to himself before inquiring, "What kind of _details?_"

The slender figure returned his gaze to his companion.

"The kind that could present quite a few problems if we get caught."

Another growl prompted the first mech to continue.

"It would seem that relationships between our dear Autobots and Decepticons are starting evolve."

"Into what exactly?"

"Well judging by how the jet and the shuttle were interacting yesterday, I'd say that new friendships might be forming, which isn't at all good for us."

"How so?"

The first mech quirked an optic ridge.

"Teamwork."

The second mech rolled his optics.

"They're too spiteful to even entertain the notion, never mind the fact that they won't even be able to work out our plans in time, if at all."

The first mech shifted uncomfortably.

"And if they do...?"

"They won't. However, if it makes you feel better, if the idiots show any more signs of forming a possible Treaty, we will inform Alpha of the change immediately. This is not detrimental to the plans. Earth will still be ours for the taking and there's nothing those morons will be able to do about it, even if they work it out," hissed the second mech.

* * *

So far, Grimlock and his Dinobots had been having a terrible day - and it was only first period!

The Dinobots had walked to form in their dinosaur modes and having endured some bullying from the younger years for being 'Stupid, clumsy beasts with the elegance of a retro-rat', decided that it would be wise to travel to form in their bipedal modes, but not without showing those irritating youths who was boss.

It had been satisfying to hear the resulting _clangs_ of helms smashing into the far wall of the corridor.

However, the teachers didn't think so, which now meant that all the Dinobots were going to have to attend an after-school detention at the end of the day for infighting. After form had ended, the Dinobots ambled to their first lesson: Maths.

...Which was, to say the least, a complete disaster. The reptilian beasts had struggled to fit through the door of the classroom and the concepts being taught made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Not to mention that as Snarl had tried to squeeze through the narrow gap between another student's chair and a filling cabinet, the Stegosaurus decided that force was needed and so he charged through, only to head butt the nearby wall. When he regained consciousness, he walked straight into the mentioned filling cabinet.

When the lesson was over and break had begun, all Dinobots found themselves in one of the corners of the segregated courtyards (or 'playgrounds' as the younger years called them).

Grimlock looked solemnly at his team mates and sighed.

"Me Grimlock wanna go home..."

* * *

Bumblebee strolled down the corridors, taking in the glorious amount of light rays shining through the clear windows. At the side of him, Cliffjumper mumbled and muttered to himself about being 'stuck in a crumbling building of shoddy workmanship and a bunch of irritating Decepticon morons who wouldn't know morals if some bit them in the aft.'

It was only second lesson and Bumblebee had the privilege of being in the company of the ranting, red mini-bot in his next class; resistant materials.

The cheerful 'bot had a teacher called _'Mr. Tonne'_ and according to other students in his class, the matt black, oak and ivy-coloured mech was tonnes of fun. Pardon the pun.

However, the other pupils had warned him not to get on the mech's bad side; it was dangerous to all those involved...

Bumblebee however, didn't think that he'd needed that little warning, Cliffjumper on the other hand... well, he'd have to wait and see.

As the two entered the classroom, it was plainly obvious that they would be making some sort of stool or berth-side table judging by the amount of previous projects on display in the room. Both mini-bots sat near the teacher in order to see what was going on as the teacher explained what they would be doing for that lesson.

As it was the first resistant materials lesson for the class after the holidays, the teacher decided to let the students build a small side project: a petite jigsaw puzzle to allow the students to get back into the swing of things in terms of materials and equipment.

Mr. Tonne did a run-through of all the warnings when handling machinery such as the sanding disks and the drills. For example, 'Don't put your head too close to the moving parts' and 'Keep your optics protected at all times when using the mechanisms'.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Cliffjumper wasn't paying any attention. That much was obvious when the belligerent mini-bot dropped a bolt underneath the functioning sanding disk then proceeded to duck below the moving wheel; his sensory horn impossibly close to the high-speed disk, to pick the pesky thing up.

Bumblebee, having seen the entire incident, had actually burst into laughter at what the teacher did next when he spotted a potential fatal accident (which didn't go down too well for the cheery VW bug, but in hindsight, giggles couldn't be helped).

Mr. Tonne had paced purposely to the other side of the room with grim determination and bodily hauled Cliffjumper out from below the massive sanding disk. An impressive shout followed which made everybody in the room forget what they were doing to stare at the intimidating teacher (who was by far one of the tallest in the whole school) whereas poor Cliffjumper visibly shrunk in on himself.

"DON'T DO THAT YOU STUPID MECH! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU GOT CAUGHT IN THE MACHINE?!"

Cliffjumper whimpered.

"YOUR HEAD WOULD HAVE BEEN GOING ROUND AND ROUND AND ROUND! YOU WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO STOP! DO YOU WANT TO END UP IN A&E?!"

As the teacher said this, his head did an odd twirling motion as if caught in a wheel, prompting some muffled squeaks and snickers of amusement from the surrounding pupils.

"NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

Cliffjumper nodded warily before being unceremoniously dumped on the floor by the big mech. Bumblebee sauntered over to his friend to help him up whilst the humiliated mini-bot kept his optics glued to the floor.

Bumblebee chuckled and couldn't help but say, "And what have we learned today?"

Cliffjumper's optics flashed in anger at the obvious jest.

"Can it, pip-squeak."

Bumblebee rolled his optics. Some 'bots never learned.

* * *

Prowl had decided that he didn't like chemistry.

Okay, well that wasn't entirely accurate; he liked chemistry, he just didn't like his teacher. And he wasn't the only one.

As it turned out, he was in the same class as Jazz and Thundercracker. The first thing the teacher had done was separate them all _'in case they got distracted'_. Prowl didn't mind being separated from Thundercracker (he was a Decepticon) but he wasn't struck on the concept of being apart from Jazz in a strange, new environment. Jazz had also pulled a face; Thundercracker looked indifferent.

Prowl had been seated in between two femmes and he noted that there seemed to be a seating plan of femme, mech, femme, mech.

He hadn't minded this too much except for the part where the femme on his left sighed and muttered, "Welcome to the Pit." That hadn't been too reassuring.

The Praxian glanced at her questioningly and upon seeing his confused faceplate, the femme had quickly written a note in her planner and given it to Prowl before turning her attention back to the porcelain, aqua-striped and grey teacher, designated _'Mr. Joules'_.

Prowl read the note.

_Don't ask him anything._

The door-winged mech frowned. How could he not ask the teacher anything if there was something he didn't understand (however few times that had happened)? Prowl wrote something underneath the statement and passed it back to the ruby and amethyst femme.

The femme took her planner back and read the new addition.

_Why?_

Quickly, she wrote a new message underneath and handed it back to Prowl before once again, staring attentively at the rambling Mr. Joules (seriously, couldn't the mech be a little clearer? He was mumbling terribly with that weird growth on his upper lip. Moustaches weren't meant to inhibit natural speech!)

Once again Prowl read the new message.

_Trust me. Just don't._

Prowl shrugged slightly and wrote _'ok'_ before handing the planner back to the femme and listening to what the teacher had to say.

_'Yippee,'_ Jazz thought sarcastically, _'silent work'._

A work sheet was handed out to each and every student containing chemistry questions about empirical formulas.

"Right then. Get on with it," mumbled the teacher behind that caterpillar-like growth.

Jazz frowned as he took in the question sheet. Wait a nano-click, they hadn't been taught how to do this...had they? Well if the class had, Jazz certainly hadn't, but it became clear by the stumped facial expressions of everyone in the room that no one had learned any of these formulae.

_'Well that has to change,' _thought Jazz as he raised his arm to query the teacher...

Thundercracker winced as a fuming Mr. Joules laid into the black and white saboteur. Really, the music lover hadn't done anything wrong to deserve such a harsh treatment. He had only stated what was on the minds of every other pupil in the class. He had merely asked what method they should use to work out the empirical formula. The teacher hadn't taken it too kindly.

"HEAD DOWN AND **SHUT UP!**" Bellowed Mr. Joules.

"But sir..." Jazz tried.

_"I thought I told you to shut up!"_

"But we don' understand the ques-"

"Well, maybe if you stand outside, you may _understand_ it better!"

"Wha'?!Why?"

"Listen, you're new here so let me tell you something. At Anford High, we don't like idiots who backchat, understood?"

"Ya've never taught us -"

_"Did you hear what I just said?!"_

Jazz sighed and slumped his head in defeat.

"Yeah, sir."

The teacher nodded approvingly before glaring daggers at the rest of his silent (and slightly mortified in the case of Prowl and Thundercracker) class.

"Well? What are you waiting for? _Get on with it!_"


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I do not own 'Feminax' or any related products. A **warning **to some youngsters (to cover myself really). There is a little bit of a 'suggestive' conversation at the end (but it's not actually explicit). :) Enjoy! And please review if you've had anything weird or funny happen to you/ you want to see some characters!_

* * *

It was lunchtime and Blaster had no idea what to do with himself. Yesterday, he had done a little bit of exploration with his creations (or 'younger friends' as he had to call them in front of teachers and students), but with the whole site now mapped out in his processor, there wasn't much for him or his cassettes to do except chat with the Autobots (because _no way_ was he talking to those Decepticreeps - it was bad enough he had to room with one). Somehow, the idea of **once again** conversing with his fellow Autobots when he'd been doing that for years seemed unappealing in a new environment.

A subconscious thought of where Ramhorn could be passed Blaster's mind when said mechling bounced over to the red cassette player and his creations, sprouting inane babble about some music club.

Blaster raised an optic ridge.

"Woah, woah little mech. Slow down. Now wha' was it ya wanted ta say?"

The little rhinoceros collected his thoughts before promptly replying.

"I found this cool music club in the top room of the music block and the teachers are saying that they want new recruits!"

Blaster visibly perked up at the news. Music club? Was that like a band?

Ramhorn stood, staring expectantly at his creator before Eject lost a hold of his glossa and couldn't help but plead,

"Oh please carrier, let us see you making music! You never get much of an opportunity at the base and you always tell us these wonderful stories about that club you used to work at before you joined the war, and we've never really been able to see you play before. Please join, please!"

Rewind stared incredulously at his twin as the Bluestreak-like ramble finished before he too, gazed longingly at his carrier. Even Steeljaw seemed to have an unexpected interest in the frivolities.

Blaster scratched at the back of his neck.

"Ah dunno. Ah mean, ya don' play instuments yarselves, so wha' are ya little guys gonna do? It doesn't seem very fair of meh..."

Eject vigorously shook his head.

"Awww, don't worry 'bout us carrier, we'll find something to do and besides, we wanna watch ya!"

The other cassettes nodded their agreement.

A grin blossomed on Blaster's faceplate.

"Well, what're we waitin' for?"

When Blaster eventually reached the top music room in the music block (really, it was like a maze with all the building work) the red mech was extremely surprised, and very disappointed, to see a certain navy blue mech had also learned about the new club.

Soundwave was chatting to (more like listening to) the head of music, Mr. Reed as the chestnut, red and gold mech was directing the telepath as to what the club was about. As it turned out, the club was actually a band, where members of the school (mostly pupils with the odd teacher) would get together as an ensemble and play a desired instrument. However, the band only allowed wind, brass, percussion, keyboards and a bass guitar to play.

As Blaster listened to the teacher without actually looking, he spotted Soundwave's own creations talking behind a table. Unfortunately, they also spotted him and his little ones. For the most part, the beast-formers ignored the rival cassettes, but that didn't mean that Frenzy and Rumble weren't livid at the fact that their rivals were in the same cramped room as them. The twins snarled at Eject and Rewind, who were also outraged that they couldn't seem to get rid of the opposing twins.

At some point during this time, Soundwave had stopped talking to the teacher and had focused his attention on Blaster. If the red boom box even made a move towards his creations, the telepath was going to rip his opponent's vocaliser out...

Blaster watched the proceedings of the two sets of twins before feeling a set of optics glaring daggers into his back. The music-lover slowly turned to find the telepath glaring at him (which was weird considering he still had his visor on). Blaster growled slightly in warning before feeling a light tap on his shoulder. He whirled round to find Mr. Reed smiling broadly at him.

"Ah! You're here for the band?"

Blaster hesitated as he tried to switch from 'protect younglings' mode to 'concentrate on what mech in front of me is saying' mode.

Mr. Reed took the hesitation as confirmation and dragged Blaster to where the music was laid out.

"So, what is it you play?" Asked the jovial teacher.

Blaster was still a little dumbstruck and absentmindedly answered, "Ummm...Trumpet..."

"I see! Would you like to borrow one of ours or do you have your own?" Mr. Reed queried without noticing the odd tones in the cassette player's vocals.

"Ah don' have one with meh..."

"So you can borrow one of ours then!"

The oblivious music teacher scurried off to find said instrument leaving Blaster searching for his long-hated rival (and room mate).

Soundwave was speaking quietly to his cassettes and every so often he would glance over at Blaster in order to make sure the other wasn't going to try anything.

Blaster snorted in amusement at seeing the navy telepath so paranoid and he strolled over to his own creations who were giving him questioning gazes.

"Where's Mr. Reed gone?" Eject asked innocently.

"Apparently, Ah need a trumpet," replied Blaster, smirking at the way his younglings faces lit up at the mention of the brass instrument.

"You're really gonna play?" Asked an excited Rewind.

"Even with Soundwave here?" Steeljaw added.

Blaster chuckled, "Hey, ol' monotone of doom doesn't scare meh. Besides, he can't exactly do anythin' without bein' watched by the staff here. Ah doubt he's gonna try anythin'." But that didn't stop him from keeping an optic on Megatron's loyal third...

When Mr. Reed came back, producing an old trumpet for Blaster to play, the teacher promptly demanded everyone in the room sit down in their correct seats. It was obvious that this band had been up and running for quite a few years as everyone immediately sat down in his or her section (brass sat behind the wind instruments; big instruments on the right, smaller instruments to the left, with keyboard, bass and percussion at the very back of the small classroom). Blaster and Soundwave merely followed when everyone else had sat down; their younglings reluctantly sitting on a desk together at the side of the room (as the teacher had begrudgingly let them stay when they said that their _'best friends' _were in the band and they themselves had nothing else to do otherwise).

Mr. Reed was facing the ensemble and seemed to be sorting out some music on the piano, which he would soon be playing. At the sound of the door creaking open, Mr. Reed swivelled his head sharply only to grin at the sight of the other two teachers shyly creeping into the room.

"Sorry we're late," mumbled the grey and pale blue mech with blond highlights in a soft voice. He was slightly taller than Mr. Reed and had a lot less mass (he looked rather skinny).

"Ah, no problem at all Mr. Craft. Here take a seat on the trumpet and cornet section," replied Mr. Reed pleasantly.

The shy teacher did a quick jog around the back of the band to find himself seated next to Blaster, whom he politely nodded a "hello" to.

The femme, a small, glossy black frame with ruby, yellow and leaf-green highlights, nodded at the mech behind the piano and strode to the flute section where the other students grinned at her and whispered "Hi Miss" to her.

"Right then," began the head of the music department, "now that Mr. Craft and Mrs. McFade are here, lets warm up with 'Hello Dolly'!"

Blaster instantly perked up. That was a human song! The songs of Earth may not have been as harmonically interesting as those from Cybertron, but it was nice to have some familiarity. The red cassette player glanced over to where his foe was sitting behind a keyboard (actually, it was the _only _keyboard), to see if he could gauge what the telepath was thinking about the choice of music. As far as he could tell, the navy mech didn't really care as long as he could play an instrument after going so long in a war without really being able to relax with one. Blaster had to agree with the other mech there.

Suddenly, Mr. Reed played a short introduction on the piano and led everyone in to the piece with a wave of his hand. Due to the large number of inexperienced players and first years (of whom hadn't had the chance to warm up properly) and just the fact that it was the first week back to the school band, the noise emanating off the collective instruments was atrocious. The brass section was much too loud and therefore overpowered the wind section, which were struggling to get to grips with the high notes in the piece. The percussionist sounded as if he was falling down three flights of stairs and the bass guitar had already dropped his music.

Then came the singing.

That part was probably the worst as not many in the band could actually hold a note and so instead resorted to a rumbling drone, which sounded eerily similar to that of Megatron snoring after too much high-grade (or so Soundwave thought). Blaster, on the other hand was too busy wincing at the 'cats-on-a-chalkboard' sound coming from the instruments when they all began to play again. It probably didn't help that none of the instruments were tuned correctly. All ten cassettes cringed at the grating noises and a couple actually considered leaving the area and not returning within five hundred metres of the building until lunch was over however, at the sight of Blaster and Soundwave's distressed faceplates, all the cassettes decided that if their creators could brave it, then so could they.

Mercifully, Mr. Reed motioned for the band to stop. He looked at the group for a second before pressing random keys on the piano at the same time, which produced some more awful sounds. Then the teacher wordlessly scratched the back of his neck in deep thought.

"Well that needs a little work..."

* * *

Air Raid didn't feel too good. He and the other Aerialbots had just found out that their fourth lesson was scheduled in language with _'Miss. Puce'_ and that they would be spending most of the lesson glaring and snarling at their worst enemies: the Stunticons.

_'Great,' _Air Raid thought sarcastically, _'just what I need. A lesson with a headache accompanied with a side order of hatred for those Stuntijerks. Can life get any better?'_

Apparently it could. There wasn't enough room for the two gestalt teams to sit on separate tables, so the violet and deep blue, soft-voiced teacher had the wonderful idea of sticking two bots on each of the remaining tables. It was four to each table (amazingly, this class had a very small amount of pupils in it so, to make up the numbers, both gestalt teams had been shoved into the same class), and by coincidence, each of the five Aerialbots had been planted next to one of the five Stunticons _in pairs_. Silverbolt was next to Motormaster, Fireflight was positioned with gloomy Dead End, Skydive and a fritzing Breakdown were paired together, Slingshot sat with Drag Strip, and Air Raid himself found that he had been plonked next to Wildrider. Air Raid groaned as the ache in his helm got worse. Wildrider glanced unsympathetically at the flyer before quickly averting his gaze to admire the two femmes sat on his table. One was a little taller than the other, with a transparent visor pushed straight up onto her olfactory sensor. She was aqua coloured with green and beige stripes running up her torso and as bands around her wrists. The Praxian femme next to her was a shiny black with gleaming white and navy blue patches. A small navy chevron adorned her helm.

As the lesson continued (something about spoken language and the accent different Cybertronians use) Air Raid became less and less coherent and the groans soon turned to quiet whines of pain. Wildrider continued to smirk at the misfortune but it seemed as though the femmes were a little more caring. The Praxian frowned at the jet and turned to the other femme.

"Have you got any painkillers, Bell?" She whispered.

The taller femme quirked an optic ridge. "Yeah, but I don't think he'll want them."

"Why, what have you got?"

By this time, the flyer's head had lifted from its former position, resting in Air Raid's arms. The aqua femme squirmed under the attention before muttering, "_Feminax_."

Wildrider tried a vain attempt at holding back his laughter, but the horrified look on the poor jet's face was proving the task to be difficult. Eventually, the racer gave up and grinned quietly, "Wow, grow a pair of boobs. That'd be awesome!"

Surprisingly, the fun-loving side of life came back to Air Raid as he commented, "I would love that!"

A couple of snickers were produced from the table, earning an odd look from the closer tables.

The newly named 'Bell' added in a hushed tone, "What? It won't make your port explode or anything..."

And once again, a new fit of silent laughter bounced off the table, leaving the remainder of the gestalt teams to wonder just how Air Raid and Wildrider; two opposing mechs who supposedly hated each other's diodes, had just managed to hit it off in such a short amount of time, reducing both a psychotic maniac and a fearless fighter (who still had a headache but had momentarily forgotten about it) into a heap of giggles and smiles.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: ~...~ Bond speak I don't own any Bonnie Tyler, Christina Aguilera or Beatles songs. Nor do I own iCarly or Southpark._

* * *

_'It must be my lucky day,'_ thought Thundercracker moodily as the final lesson of the day swung into action. Not only did he have to share a form room with those two bratty, frontline, Autobot twins, he also had to be put (along with Skywarp) into the same R.E lesson as the twin terrors - who had a perverse liking for jet judo, in which they had a target of snapping a jets wings or grounding them before pummelling the poor flyer into a scrap heap!

Thundercracker scowled at the yellow form sitting opposite him and a mirrored scowl was returned from the vain mech.

Sideswipe and Skywarp had taken to ignoring each other and instead focused their attention onto the teacher standing in front of them (which was worrying in itself).

The teacher, an oak and rose coloured femme named Mrs. Link, was fairly small yet had a tight control over the class and a voice as sharp as a knife. At the minute, she was showing pictures of destruction and mechs and femmes who had been caught in the catastrophic events, which had lead to either excruciating pain or their demise. Some of the pictures were enough to knock quite a few of the students sick, but to the two Autobots and Decepticons, it was just another painful reminder of the war which had been put on a temporary hold. Mrs. Link was interested in what the pupils in her class thought the difference was between need and want so, she devised an activity in which first the mechs and femmes wrote down five things that they wanted, then five things that they needed. The task was to show how lucky the mechs and femmes of the school were compared to how those in the presentation lacked basic necessities.

"Right, what have we got for 'want' then?" Demanded the teacher.

A few shouts of 'family', 'education', 'friends', 'credits' and 'energon' amongst others were called. The teacher was slightly stunned at the honest nature of the students but soon got over it when she realised that neither the new set of twins nor the two Seekers had offered any answers. So she quizzed them.

"Well, you're all very honest and those are respectable things you asked for however, what do we need? Sideswipe?"

The red twin jerked slightly at the sudden singling-out and merely glanced at the teacher.

"What do you _need,_ Sideswipe?" Repeated the femme, a little more forcefully.

The red hellion frantically glanced over the data pad he had absent-mindedly been doodling on when a brilliant idea sprung to mind.

_~Don't you dare!~_

Sideswipe felt his brother's end of the twin bond flare into action as soon as he thought of a prank.

_~What bro'? It's not nearly half as bad as my usuals. It's only a little one. A warming gift, so to speak.~_

Sunstreaker gave his brother a dirty glare. _~What're you up to?~_

Sideswipe grinned mischievously. _~You'll see.'_~

"**Sideswipe?**" The harsh tone brought Sideswipe back to the present and the bond went back into its soothing state.

"Yes ma'am?"

A sigh. "What do you _need?_"

The red mech smiled, "A hero, miss."

The teacher shuttered her optics in confusion. "What?"

"I need a hero."

The teacher stood in confused silence as she tried to make sense of why on Cybertron the student would need a hero. Sunstreaker and even Thundercracker to an extent gave the Lamborghini a calculating stare as they too tried to figure out where he was going with this. Skywarp, on the other hand, looked more intrigued if anything. Sideswipe decided to elaborate to ease the class' processors.

"Well, he's gotta be strong..."

And that's when it clicked with Skywarp. The black and purple jet grinned to himself in understanding before commenting, "And he's gotta be fast."

Then it slowly dawned on the class and they burst into fits of laughter and giggles upon seeing the face of the clueless teacher.

Sideswipe then finished with "And he's gotta be fresh from the fight."

Even Thundercracker had to join in with a smirk when he saw that Mrs. Link _still _didn't get it and Sideswipe and Skywarp were grinning at each other like two complete idiots at what they had accomplished. Quite astonishing that whatever grudges or anxieties the two had for each other had been almost completely dissolved due to a single song chorus.

Then Sunstreaker decided that he should try his hand at the simple prank.

"Well let's be honest. All you need is love." And once again, order was lost to an eruption of snickers, prompting Thundercracker to just relax and have a little fun.

"What, Eight days a week?"

The blue Seeker smirked as a howl of laughter exploded from the class and Sunstreaker couldn't help but smirk at the jet, giving him a wink whereas, Sideswipe and Skywarp stared, slack-jawed, at seeing the usually rational and calm mech _join in_ with their fun. The two pranksters soon averted their gaze to each other before high-fiving with each other in celebration of their newest achievement. _'Maybe these twins aren't too bad...' _Mused Thundercracker. Oh, the teacher just figured it out. Yay.

"Are you singing song titles?"

Several pupils face-palmed.

* * *

Eventually, Grimlock and the rest of the Dinobots received their wish to return back to base and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Slag had managed to run over three builders after playing a game of tag with his comrades, breaking a leg, arm, nose and causing concussion to each builder, or the fact that Swoop had managed to reduce one of the maths teachers to a sobbing pile of goo after repeatedly replying that the number 'dirf' came before eight (someone's been watching too many 'iCarly' episodes), or even the fact that Snarl had managed to get into yet another fight (which did come to blows and a trip to the infirmary for one very crushed first year) over why planets were round and not flat. The reason they were sent home was more of a combination of all three. And more.

Prowl was relieved. At least he wouldn't have to explain to Grimlock (again) that if he had five beans and he took away two, he would not have a small bean casserole.

Now if he could only get rid of Jazz.

Said happy-go-lucky saboteur was currently blasting out his favourite music, whilst singing at the top of his proverbial lungs (with a good set of vocals mind you) and doing his very best to have no respect for Prowl, who at the moment was doing some history homework. Or at least trying to.

This was supposed to be a shared room for both the Second and Third In Command of the Autobots, but if Jazz continued making this infernal racket Prowl might as well bunk down in the library for the remainder of the year. It wasn't that Prowl didn't like Jazz, not at all, it was just that the saboteur had a very loud way of expressing his excitement and sometimes, he didn't actually realise that he was causing any harm.

And just what on Cybertron was Jazz listening to?

_'I met him out for dinner on a Friday night,_

_He really got me working up an appetite,_

_He had tattoos up and down his arm,_

_There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm,  
He's a one stop shop, makes my panties drop,_

_He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated candyman!'_

Suddenly, the music stopped before it managed to reach its final crescendo and Jazz ceased to bounce on the berth that he had claimed as his own.

"Awww, Prowler! Why'd ya stop ma tunes, mech?" Jazz asked, whole-sparkedly disappointed.

"Jazz, please. I'm trying to finish some history research and it's very difficult to do so when you are playing your _music _at such a volume. I'm also quite sure that you said you had some outstanding homework to complete?" Prowl reasoned.

Jazz visibly deflated and Prowl would have felt slightly guilty if hadn't have been for the ringing in his audios that had refused to end.

"Sorry. Ah didn't know ya were doin' homework..." Jazz apologised sheepishly.

Prowl allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "That's alright. I have no problems with you listening to music whilst I'm working, just not at glass-shattering volumes. If that seems fair to you."

Jazz's grinning visage came back to his person, and he shot Prowl a brilliant smile before routing through his own shelf (next to his berth), and eventually pulling out a worn data pad which had the Cybertronian glyphs for 'History Notes' scrawled across the front. He then proceeded to flop down next to Prowl whilst leaning his back up against the tactician's personal desk (as Jazz also had one but seemed loathe to use it).

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "You did hear me just then didn't you? I said that you're fine to play your music, just not _so loud_."

Jazz briefly glanced at Prowl before going back to what seemed to be the smaller mech's rather tattered homework.

"Ah know," he replied simply.

Prowl stood stumped as to whether the saboteur was angry with him or if the Polyhexian was just fooling around with his battle computer (that is if it was still online after the youth change they'd all undertaken).

Deciding that Jazz was just fooling around, the Praxian warily walked to his desk to continue with his homework. After 15 minutes of silence, Prowl turned his head towards Jazz (who was still sitting on the floor next to Prowl's pedes).

"Are you alright?" He asked carefully.

Jazz tilted his head in question before meeting the tactician's gaze.

"Ah'm fine. Yarself?"

"Erm...yes?"

The strangely behaving mech nodded with a smile and set back to work, leaving a stupefied Second to stare in befuddlement at the back of the head of his counterpart. A few more minutes of silence passed before Prowl cleared his intakes nervously. Jazz's head swung back around to give a questioning glance to his superior.

"If I have offended you, Jazz, I apologise."

"...Offended meh?"

Prowl frowned at the genuine confusion in the saboteur's voice.

"Well... I just assumed..."

Jazz's face suddenly lit up in realisation and he chuckled at the now confused tactician.

"Ya mean because o' this?" He grinned as he gestured to his homework. Prowl nodded.

"Na, mech, ya haven't offended meh; ya just reminded meh that Ah, too, had some work to be doin'. And if yar doin' somethin', Ah might as well be. It's better than distracting ya." Jazz explained.

Prowl nodded in understanding (and a little bit of relief) before replying, "I see."

A more comfortable silence ensued whilst both black and whites continued to write up their research however, it was soon broken by Jazz's sudden snort of laughter. "Ya really thought ya'd offended meh, Prowler?"

Prowl had long-since given up trying to correct the nick-name, so smiled slightly, replying instead with "You were very quiet... I had to make sure that I didn't need to have a large stone engraved with your name..."

Jazz burst into laughter. "Ah don't believe it! The famous, stoic tactician just cracked a joke!"

Prowl's smirk grew larger, "Don't get used to it; I don't do weekends."

Jazz chuckled in amusement and leaned back on the tactician's leg. The smaller black and white enjoyed Prowl's company. Others may see the tactician as cold or only interested in work (mostly because he seemed to push others away and discouraged any physical interactions), and the truth was that at one time Jazz had also been limited to this view (making both Prowl and Jazz total enemies the first time they had met as Prowl originally thought that Jazz was an _'annoying, loud-mouthed glitch'_), but after seeing a different side to Prowl during the destruction of Praxus, even if only for a brief moment, Jazz's curiosity had been piqued and he had completely focused his attention on trying to see the interior of this seemingly emotionless 'bot. Because of the attention (however unwanted it sometimes became), Prowl found himself curious about the seemingly rambunctious Polyhexian, and after many attempts of trying to find out about one another (many of which were regarded both suspiciously and nervously by many of the surrounding crew due to the numerous blows the two black and whites had come to in the past), a mutual friendship had been formed and soon, the Second and Third In Command were seen together regularly around the ship (if not to the relief of the rest of the crew), sometimes going so far as to be seen chatting together at one of the Ark's many parties (although Prowl didn't usually stay too long at these particular social events). At first, many had been sceptical about the friendship, some boldly asking Jazz what he saw in the 'cold drone' or asking the saboteur why he would bother with somebot who would 'have no problem leading them to their death', but Jazz would always reply with "Give him a chance," and eventually, after many, many years, the Autobots began to see that Prowl truly did care for the mechs under his command, and how he would always do his best to ensure that the Autobots were as happy and as suited as possible to their arrangements (even though they were at war). This became clear when Prowl was taken off duty once due to a serious injury, and the work rotor was completely messed up; Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were taken off duty together, whereas Cliffjumper was put with Mirage on scouting duty (even though the noble was primarily a spy) and even Jazz and Optimus had problems when trying to fill in the hundreds of reports that became piled up at their quarters (_"Seriously, where did Prowl find time to do all these?!"_), discounting the many other mishaps that followed.

Prowl quirked an optic ridge as Jazz hummed contentedly, the vibrations racing through Jazz and up into Prowl's leg.

"Are you sure you're not related to Steeljaw?"

Jazz giggled childishly before purring and repeatedly rubbing his black helm against Prowl's leg, to which Prowl decided to humour him by gently scratching one of the sensory horns that adorned the purring 'bot's helm, after which Jazz's right leg started to twitch, much like an animal's would after being petted.

Prowl laughed and soon made the decision to make himself comfortable next to Jazz. He moved his work (which up until that point had been forgotten) and sat down on the floor next to the curious saboteur. After realising what Prowl was doing, Jazz perked up and rested his helm against his friend's shoulder, then continued to put some more time into his history research. Both officers relaxed into a friendly atmosphere, occasionally asking each other questions on their assignment, helping each other through the work.

For the rest of the evening, both mechs wore bright smiles (but not without Jazz playing 'Candyman' softly on his radio).

* * *

_A/N: WOW! I seem to have abandoned this fic! Remembered it the other day and decided to get back into the swing of things. Just another reminder to you that I would love to hear anything weird or whacky that has happened to you! Thanks!_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: In my mind, the animals of the Transformer world have metallic feathers, fur etc. Warning: A few TF swears!_

* * *

"...And finally, there are going to be a few changes after today as to how the school will run. For example, your assembly will now be on a Monday rather than a Wednesday as you take precedence over the younger years, who will have theirs later in the week. Also, I am sure that you have noticed that the new languages/ history block is complete and commencing tomorrow, that block will be put to use. It will be the 'East block' and you will be using that block for lessons, whereas the old 'A' block will be secluded and hopefully... fumigated. Then it will be demolished."

The shrill screech of the school bell sounded and the two small-framed femmes at the front of the sports hall shouted, "Dismissed!" prompting all of the top year to grudgingly stumble to their feet after a long period of sitting cross-legged on the floor, allowing for pins and needles to take effect. The two teachers had actually been Miss. Fall (the head of year) and Miss. Swiftly (deputy head of year and dubbed 'sparkling-sitter' of the top year. She also happened to do a lot of admin for both students and teachers when something went wrong - which both Prowl and Soundwave could empathise with).

Miss. Fall was a fairly thick-framed femme with the odd flash of navy blue to contrast with her mainly golden frame. She always seemed to have a sarcastic grin on her face and was known amongst many students to be a happy-go-lucky teacher friend who would bite your head off at the word '_go_'. Miss. Swiftly on the other hand was a glossy black femme with a few random stripes of lavender here and there, for a bit of colour. She was a little shorter and much more slender than her superior but gave off a stressed vibe to those who bothered to look close enough. She was more action-orientated rather than the all-talk-and-no-results type. Basically, every move you made, no matter where you were, she knew about it and when she caught you (because she always did) you might as well say goodbye to freedom because you wouldn't be seeing yours for a while...which was probably why that particular year had no real problems with bullying.

Seaspray and Beachcomber walked quietly towards the exit of the sports hall, intending to get to their first lesson without being stampeded by the rest of the year (but you always manage to get one clumsy idiot who can't help but knock you with their bag). Just as the duo were about to reach the exit a large white blob of... something plummeted to the ground just a few centimetres in front of them. Both nature-loving mechs glanced at each other questioningly before a soft but familiar _'cheep!' _sounded from above. The two slowly glanced up to see a small, frightened, metallic black bird fluttering from beam to beam. Whilst in it's panicked state, the tiny being was unceremoniously _doing its business _on the (once) clean floor below, and as white patches tend to be noticeable against a bright green ground, one-by-one students were beginning to look up to find the source of the mess. As always, you always get at least one mech or femme who blows things out of proportion and starts screaming (it wasn't Starscream for once), _"AHHHHHHH! DON'T LET IT COME NEAR ME!" _where they then start to frantically dodge and weave in an attempt to stop a creature smaller than their hand from 'attacking' them with one of its... presents. Naturally this acts as a catalyst and everyone else starts to weave and dodge (even though some are not particularly sure why they are doing it, but it just seemed like a good idea at the time). Of course the teacher (i.e. head of year) steps in, rolling her optics at the immature behaviour stating that _'it's just a bird, it won't kill you'_, before the small creature decides to take a chance at making a break for it, swooping low in front of said teacher, startling said teacher, and then said teacher screams and ducks with her optics tightly squeezed shut. The commotion then starts up again with the dodging and the weaving and the screaming of sarcastic teachers.

And the bird is still up in the rafters.

Beachcomber and Seaspray stared in bewilderment at the chaos surrounding them, moving their gaze to each other and then finally up to the small creature that was terrified of the screeching mechs and femmes below. Wordlessly, Beachcomber moved to the double doors, opening them as wide as they would go whilst the yellow and blue mech stepped back to allow a wide berth for anything (or anyone) trying to escape the hall. The young bird saw its chance and happily seized it, once again swooping low, yet close enough to its two saviours for them to view its metallic feathers gracefully spanning out to alter its velocity.

After completing their small deed, the two friends smiled warmly at each other and followed the bird's example in leaving the sports hall and its obliviously screaming occupants behind.

* * *

What was up with today and little furry creatures? This was the wavelength on which Hook's muse was running on. He was currently in a biology lab with his gestalt mates, the Autobot; Trailbreaker and a lot of other students he didn't know.

The teacher, a black, white and crimson mech (and quite good-looking if the swooning femmes at the back of the class were anything to go on) who had introduced himself as _'Mr. Watts'_, had told the class that he didn't see the point in easing the class into the work considering that this class had some of the highest calibre of students in the year, and had instead told the pupils that they would be examining a _live _petrorabbit in order to understand the functions of certain internal structures of more complex life forms.

"For this task you will be working in groups of three, with the exception of one group which will be composed of four. In your group there will be a photographer, a dissector and a helper. The group of four will have two helpers," explained Mr. Watts.

"I expect you to dissect, record, photograph and label the internal structures of your specimen, specifically the spark chamber, including the many energon cables and vessels located around it; ventilation chambers; and waste pump. This should take you no more than thirty minutes," informed the teacher.

"Please get into groups of three and collect your caged petrorabbit from the desk at the front."

Trailbreaker scratched the back of his neck nervously. It was obvious that this class were all friendly with each other (and probably knew something about the dissection beforehand) as they were already in groups of three, leaving the Constructicons and himself standing awkwardly without any partners.

The teacher sighed inwardly. These were _those_ types of students.

"Alright then, lets see who we have here...err... Long Haul and ... what was it again? Scavenger! Yes, you two go with Trailbreaker." Mr. Watts instructed as he watched said Constructicons trudge unhappily to their unwilling partner.

_"Not one word Autobrat!" _Long Haul hissed whilst Scavenger glanced pleadingly back to his gestalt mates. Trailbreaker frowned. Well... this was going to be fun.

"You four; decide who's going to do what, keeping in mind that you will have two helpers in your group instead of one."

When everyone had collected all his or her equipment (scalpels, gloves etc.) and the class was reasonably quiet, the teacher set the timer for 30 minutes and merely stated, _"Begin."_

Trailbreaker looked around to find that most groups were getting on with the task of sedating their specimens; even the other Constructicons had no problem in putting the animal to sleep in order to begin the dissection.

Suddenly, a yelp was heard from behind him, prompting the mostly black Autobot to turn around just in time to see the furry creature his group was supposed to be working on making a leap of faith thereby escaping both its cage and the clutches of his Decepticon partners. Trailbreaker moved quickly to catch the rascal but unfortunately, the petrorabbit was quicker and managed to slip between his legs. All three members of the group stared at each other for a moment before running to catch their experiment.

The pest hopped from table to table, kicking up papers, equipment and other various biology-related items in its bid for freedom, which caused more than a few problems for our favourite group. Just as Scavenger was about to grasp the creature by the elongated audios, the creature skidded into a U-turn managing to disrupt another experiment before jumping to the safety of the floor and cramming itself underneath a wide desk. Long Haul growled and lunged at the rabbit, but the creature anticipated his move and slid between the dump truck's feet, knocking the poor Constructicon over in the process. Trailbreaker watched as the creature once again darted to the other side of the room. He then raised his helpless gaze to Mr. Watts who had an optic ridge raised and an amused smirk plastered across his face. Scavenger had also seen the teacher's expression and looked to Trailbreaker with his shoulders slumped in defeat.

After precisely 11 minutes of quick thinking and teamwork, the specimen had been successfully cornered, captured and sedated.

Long Haul hurriedly began dissecting the unconscious petrorabbit with Trailbreaker taking pictures and Scavenger labelling the different parts of the specified internal structures on the diagrams that he had quickly whipped up whilst the creature was being sedated. Occasionally, Trailbreaker would help with recording and explaining what each structure's function was.

_"Frag!" _Long Haul cursed quietly.

Trailbreaker whirled around after assuring the other low-self esteemed mech that he could handle whatever had happened and that Scavenger should just focus on labelling the rest of the diagrams.

"What?" The black mech whispered.

"I think I've just punctured one of its ventilation chambers," replied the dump truck.

Trailbreaker peered over Long Haul's shoulder only to wince at the amount of energon oozing from the small wound.

"Well there's nothing you can do about it now. Just... finish the lesson and we'll tell Sir," reasoned the black mech (even though his tanks were churning at the idea of an innocent life form being snatched from life so cruelly).

Long Haul sighed but returned to his work as Trailbreaker toddled off to the teacher, informing the curious power shovel of the fate of their furry experiment on his way.

As it happened, Long Haul had managed to keep the petrorabbit alive the longest, much to the aggravation of Hook, and had been praised by the teacher for not only keeping the experiment alive for the longest time in the class, but also finding time to hurdle desks before doing the quickest mutilation of a petrorabbit ever known to his class.

The bell rang signalling the end of period 1 and the start of break time. The rest of the class hastily made their way to the door, whereas Long Haul, Scavenger and Trailbreaker lingered just a little longer.

"It's a shame that the thing had to go and, you know... offline," muttered the green dump truck sheepishly whilst awkwardly staring holes into the floor.

"Uhh... yeah..." mumbled Trailbreaker uncomfortably.

Scavenger on the other hand, glanced towards the rest of his gestalt team who were waiting just outside the door, gesturing impatiently for them to _'come on!'_

"Well... thanks for the help, Trailbreaker..."whispered the power shovel uneasily, but with a sincere tone in his voice. The Autobot glanced upwards in surprise before smiling slightly for the first time throughout that lesson.

"Yeah... it's been... interesting..." commented Long Haul. Trailbreaker's face blossomed into a full grin making the other two a little unsure of what he was thinking.

Trailbreaker took both mech's hands into his own and shook them once, replying with a wink, "Well, I have to say it's been... _eventful_."

The two Constructicons glanced at each other before a small smile pulled at the lips of both and the duo nodded at their partner. A shout of _"C'mon morons!" _startled them all until they realised that it was the other Constructicons who were calling. Both ran to the door, but Long Haul paused midway to turn towards the lone mech in the middle of the lab.

"...See you later?"

Trailbreaker grinned, "You know it!"

Long Haul smiled genuinely before wincing at a harsh shout of his name and sprinting towards his comrades. Trailbreaker shook his head in amusement as a disbelieving Bonecrusher thumped the dump truck on his head whilst Long Haul just shrugged and Scrapper stuttered apologies.

_'Cons were weird_

* * *

_A/N: A big thank you to Fox tamer 113 for the lovely bit about the rabbit! I appreciate it and it was very funny to read (shame about the poor thing's fate though). So, as always, comment if you want any of your own personal life funnies or shockers in here! :D_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: If you're struggling with the concept of the different data pads, I'm referring to a device which acts like a note book, but there is one for each lesson and it looks a lot like an iPad with a stylus. There are some suggestive themes in this chapter, but nothing graphic._

* * *

"I think computers hate you," stated Smokescreen dully whilst staring intently at his own screen and trying to focus on collecting data and ordering it into a spreadsheet.

Tracks, on the other hand, was staring in a dumbfounded manner at his monitor as the infernal machine decided to crash for the third time that lesson. And he hadn't saved his work for the third time that lesson. Blast.

Tracks began the tedious cycle of firing up his computer (for the **fourth** time) and logging into his personal desktop. All the while Smokescreen snickered quietly at the side of him, listening to the vain mech's muffled curses.

The teacher, a grey, silver and navy blue mech with cool blue optics by the name of _'Mr. Faz'_, raised one optic ridge at the mix of Cybertronian curses and some unknown/ possibly made up language (the language actually consisted of English swear words and at least one creative use for the word 'shoe').

"Tracks, if I hear that kind of language coming from you again, you will spend the rest of this lesson holding an interesting conversation with the wall outside. Is that understood?" Mr. Faz asked with a calm demeanour.

"Sorry, sir," said mech replied with a roll of his optics (which he carefully made sure to hide from the teacher).

"That sounds about right for your intellectual level, Trixie," murmured an amused Smokescreen. Tracks growled lowly making the femme beside him shoot a _rather-concerned-for-this-mech's-mental-health_ glance in his direction, before quickly focusing her attention back onto the screen before her.

"Well, that one likes you," muttered the mostly blue Praxian, whilst a mocking grin threatened to take over his faceplate.

Tracks once again rolled his optics at the comment before deciding that the best possible course of action was to ignore the sparkling-like behaviour (of course, it was nothing to do with the fact that he had no valid comebacks). The door-winged mech by his side snickered at the lack of remarks from the other, raising his wings noticeably higher in victory (much like when he won a bet).

"I would like to remind you all that the process of data collection should be completed by the end of this lesson and any of you who decide that you can't be bothered, will be kept behind at break time to finish," announced the teacher with a sharp look at the 'jokers' of the class (mainly the 5 or 6 mechs huddled in the corner of the room, who were at the moment emitting suspicious barks of laughter and 'guffawing' at one mech's monitor).

"Looks like you're going to be held prisoner," whispered Smokescreen to an annoyed looking Corvette.

"You're not much further on," snarled Tracks quietly.

"_Au contraire_, I bet I'm let out before you," smirked the chevron-wearing mech.

"And if you're not?"

"I'll do your homework for you for the next three days."

"Fine!"

"Wait a moment... if **_I_****_am _**let out first, you have got to give me your polishing kit for the next two weeks."

"..."

"Deal or not? Unless you're too scared..."

"...You're on!"

Both mechs visibly quickened their typing pace, prompting the femme from earlier to turn her head incredulously to the two mechs who were apparently racing to finish a _spreadsheet _and making a large amount of noise whilst doing so_. _The femme rolled her optics with an air of _'I don't really want to be here right now'_ and continued to type at a normal pace.

When the bell finally rang, marking the end of the lesson, Tracks had in fact finished a few minutes before Smokescreen and was grinning smugly whilst walking out of the door. Smokescreen, on the other hand, was scowling lightly at his screen at the thought of his next three days being crammed with a double load of homework, when the teacher casually called over his shoulder, "Tracks, I can't find your work on the shared database...you did _save it_, didn't you?"

Tracks stopped dead at the door and swivelled his body in slow motion towards his computer, which had now been logged off.

Smokescreen cackled loudly at the horror-stricken faceplates of his comrade, before striding purposely over to him and patting the distressed mech on the back.

"You owe me a polishing kit."

* * *

A tall, slim mech with green optics and a similar build to Perceptor but in a sky blue colour scheme with navy blue highlights and light grey stripes stood at the front of the classroom whilst indicating to a large writing board, wherein the class was supposed to be copying down the many equations written on it into their chemistry data pads.

_'Mr. Mars'_,as the teacher had introduced himself, was a very experienced teacher, and to demonstrate the reactions of certain elements with oxygen when in a closed environment, the mech had picked up a small container of gasoline, which he had also stated contained small fragments of phosphorus.

Wheeljack had been instantly glued to the scene as the teacher had told the class to stand well behind the transparent barrier he was working in front of, just in case the transfer of the gasoline-coated phosphorus into the beaker did not go as planned.

Perceptor, Skyfire and Ratchet, very used to rescuing an ash-covered engineer on a (close to) daily basis, chose to stand at the back of the room, ensuring that there were plenty of bodies between them and the experiment should it cause a magnificent explosion. But they still wanted to be able to see.

Starscream, who being stuck on the Nemesis had not realised just _how much_ he was longing for the opportunity to explore some chemical possibilities, was staring intently at the experiment (at a safe distance) to check to see if his prediction on the outcome was correct. The scientist side of the seeker had been so enthralled at the prospect of finally being able to return to his original vocation (even if it was a simplified version), he had momentarily forgotten that he was surrounded by four of the Autobot geek squad, whom he had been instructed to share a table with.

Mr. Mars had quickly (and successfully) transferred the phosphorus into the beaker and had efficiently placed a cap onto the beaker to (hopefully) dull the effects of the spectacular explosion as soon as the substance came into contact with the oxygen. He then took a few strides backwards (as a safety precaution) and told everyone to watch closely...

Except... nothing happened.

Mr. Mars gazed confusedly at the experiment and told everyone to just wait for a few moments.

After three minutes, nothing continued to happen.

"Huh... I'm sure something was supposed to happen..." mumbled the teacher, "Ah well..."

Wheeljack visibly deflated at the lack of reaction with a soft "Awww..." before trudging dejectedly back to his table. Starscream frowned before wondering firstly if the solution actually contained phosphorus, secondly, if the gasoline was too thick and lastly, wondering if all the time spent on the Nemesis had affected his scientific abilities and he had just forgotten everything to do with chemistry. He quickly dismissed the last option to save what little sanity he felt he still possessed.

Ratchet, Skyfire and Perceptor shrugged at yet another failed experiment they'd witnessed wherein Wheeljack was present.

All five mechs accumulated at their table and Ratchet couldn't help but snicker at his friend's pouting faceplates. Wheeljack's head snapped up at the sound and grinned at the young-looking medic.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you know how cute you are when you pout? It's adorable," smirked Ratchet, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The others watched as the inventor's face contorted through a mixture of emotions, including horror, shock, indignation and finally, settling on amusement.

"Do you think we could talk about this in a more_ private _setting?"

Lets play Spot The Innuendos.

"Why? We've already had creations together, unless you've forgotten about the dinobots."

"That doesn't count. We never had the _fun _that goes with it. And besides, I thought you hated referring to them like that."

"I can make exceptions if I want to win an argument."

"That's not playing fair."

"All's fair in love and war."

"Extra stress on the _'love'_, darlin' of mine."

"Very funny _sweet spark_. But the point still stands that you have an adorable pout."

"I'd love to show you more of what my pouting lips can do."

"I'm sure you would. I wouldn't mind seeing what the **rest** of you can do."

"Oooh... Is that a challenge?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Okay! Getting a little bizarre now!" A disturbed-looking Perceptor interrupted, prompting both the inventor and medic to glance around their table at the alienated look on Skyfire's face and the trying-to-hide-it-but-failing-miserably chuckling faceplate of Starscream.

Ratchet chose to ignore his fellow Autobots in favour of addressing Starscream.

"Do we amuse you Starscream?"

Said mech glanced sharply and warily at Ratchet before straightening himself out into a more acceptable stance.

"You do provide some pleasing entertainment."

"Oh, good. Glad to be of some use," Wheeljack commented airily.

Starscream raised an optic ridge at the friendly tone. These were Autobots; his supposed enemies, and they were talking to him as if they'd known him for most of their functioning. Well, Skyfire had, but he wasn't speaking at the moment. Was this a trap or just Autobot nature?

"I assure you that you are," tested Starscream, "for your limited variety of comebacks."

"You think that you can do better?" Ratchet grinned challengingly, "Fly boy?"

"Ratchet, please..." pleaded Perceptor. Skyfire rolled his optics jokingly at seeing his (former?) friend return to his likeable persona. Starscream winked at the shuttle.

"Come on Percy, it's just a bit o' fun," reasoned Wheeljack with a wink, "I'm sure ol' Screamer can handle it!"

"When you live in the same ship as Megatron, you become adept at having a comeback for all situations, otherwise you may find yourself being walked all over," stated the seeker bitterly.

"Heh, Megsy has got nothing on us!" Ratchet smiled. For some unknown reason, he wanted to change Starscream's tone back to that friendly one from moments ago.

"Does this mean I might actually have to **use **my processor?" That tone was back.

"You'd have a better chance with two."

"I'm sure my one can compete against a half of one."

"I don't know whether to laugh or be offended."

"Be offended."

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us, Ratch'," laughed Wheeljack. Ratchet merely smirked whilst looking the Seeker up and down. Perceptor slapped his own faceplate in a face palm. Skyfire smiled warmly at Starscream, who grinned back before turning his attention back to his abandoned data pad as Mr. Mars had finally cleared all the equipment from the failed experiment to a desk at the side of the room and had begun to explain the equations on the board.

* * *

"**ALPHA!**" A shaded figure screeched as a second, much taller figure slapped his clawed hand onto the other's mouth.

"Are you crazy?!" The taller mech hissed.

"Unhand me!" The other cried hysterically as he shoved his companion off him, "They're getting too close to each other for it to be ignored! Not to mention we now have the problem of the Dinobots on Earth! And the femmes and Shockwave! Lets not forget them!"

"Shut up! Alpha is the _last _mech we want knowing about this! We can _handle_ it; they're not exactly the best of friends at the moment, are they?"

"Well, no... but-"

"But nothing! See here, those moronic beasts may be on Earth, but they're in stasis lock, and the femmes and that idiotic Cyclops are stuck on the opposite side of Cybertron; they don't even know where their leaders are yet! So just calm down before you blow a diode!"

"If Alpha or Beta find out that we're keeping secrets, they're going to have our helms! Stop looking at me like that! If they fire the Extractor at Earth and those Dinobots online, we're going to be facing a serious problem; what if they damage the Extractor? You know how long it took to build!"

"They won't find out! We can handle this! We can find a way to offline the Dinobots for good and no one will be any the wiser. We can keep the femmes busy with Shockwave and his little drones and it'll be too late for any of the Autobots or Decepticons to have a say in the matter. A few well strung rumours will put a few cracks in Shockwave's and the femmes worlds, and they'll feel as if they have no choice but to retaliate towards each other. Simple."

"And when we've finished with Earth? What of the remaining 'Bots and 'Cons? We can't exactly keep them in that school."

"We've been through this! Alpha wants a fresh start. We currently have a hidden building to the West where we are keeping breeders to produce a new generation for us to imprint ourselves upon - _the perfect generation_. As for the school, it was just a diversion to keep those war-driven maniacs away. We can dispose of it once its use has become outdated."

"That makes sense."

"Good, now get back to work!"

* * *

A vast distance away, mechs and femmes evacuated a building as a fire alarm blared into the peaceful surroundings due to a beaker of phosphorus exploding into a spectacular eruption of smoke and flames.

* * *

_A/N: The plot thickens (if there is one)! A massive thankyou to Vigatus who gave me the idea for the phosphorus bit! I enjoy reading your many stories and urge you, dear reader, to continue to give me ideas of events that have actually happened to you, or even to comment if you would like to see a particular character in here! Thankyou all!_


End file.
